Secretly, Yours
by Brutality
Summary: On October 31, 1991, Hermione Granger ends up in the Room of Requirement instead of the girl's bathroom. She meets eleven-year old Tom Riddle, and thereby begins an exciting companionship with a boy from the past. [DISCONTINUED]
1. Halloween

"_It's no wonder no one can stand her_. _She's a nightmare, honestly_."

Twelve-year old Hermione Granger rubbed the sleeve of her school robe angrily against her face in an attempt to wipe away the tears that never seemed to stop flowing from her eyes. Her sleeve was damp from having previously done so, but she was hurrying along the corridors in search of a place to be alone. She had been exiting the Charms classroom behind Harry Potter and Ron Weasley when the redheaded boy had said those incredibly hurtful words.

She knew she wasn't that well liked to begin with. Besides Neville Longbottom, the rest of her classmates tended to avoid her, or at least did not go out of their way to be friendly and welcoming. She couldn't imagine why, though. She was smart and helpful. Ron Weasley, who she didn't even really like to begin with, had been struggling to perform the basic levitation spell. When she kindly offered him assistance, he had rudely told her to do it herself. She, having memorized all of the coursework for that year, was successful in making the feather float a good few feet above their heads.

At least Professor Flitwick recognized her intelligence and had been genuinely impressed by her abilities. She had been the first one to successfully perform the spell, which was quickly becoming the norm in all of her classes. The other professors liked her too – well, not Professor Snape, but she already knew he was biased against anyone who was not a member of his house. She was sure that, in time, he would warm up to her after seeing her accomplishments. While he ignored her for the most part in order to pick on Harry Potter, he never had a word of criticism for her schoolwork. Her perfectly-procured potions and well-written essays always landed her high marks, even if they did not land her any house points.

Hermione Granger suddenly found herself wishing she had allowed the Sorting Hat to place her in Ravenclaw. She could still remember standing in the compartment of the Hogwarts Express, telling Harry and Ron about how she thought Gryffindor sounded like the best house from having read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_. Ravenclaw had, at the time, seemed like a promising second. When she had eagerly placed the worn-out looking Sorting Hat on her head later that night, she had discovered that it was willing to take her opinion into account. Although it attempted to persuade her that she would do marvelously in Ravenclaw, she was firm in her decision to join Gryffindor.

Hermione was well aware that there was no use dwelling over it now. _Hogwarts, A History_ did not mention anything about switching houses after being placed in one.

She could hear voices down the hall as she neared the portrait of the Fat Lady. The last thing she wanted was to have anyone see her in such a state. She must have looked a sight – not that she cared much about her appearance to begin with anyway.

The girls in her year, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil in particular, were always gossiping behind her back when they thought she could not hear them. They ridiculed her for her large front teeth. Admittedly, said teeth had never seemed large to her before. Her parents were both dentists, so if it had been something serious, they would have taken care of it beforehand.

The girls did not stop with her mouth. They also made fun of her hair. They were constantly giggling to themselves, suggesting to each other in what they believed to be whispers that they should purchase a brush for her for Christmas. Although they were easy enough to ignore, Hermione felt more miserable having added their taunts on top of Ron Weasley's cruel words.

Luck was not on her side, it seemed, as the voices that she had heard were gradually approaching her location. Hermione felt a sense of panic overtake her. Hogwarts was no place for keeping secrets. Word of the humiliation that Hermione had suffered would undoubtedly spread across the school – if it had not already done so. The last thing she wanted was to let others see how badly the comment had affected her.

She glanced at a portrait of a man being clubbed by trolls. She remembered reading about the portrait. Barnabas the Barmy he was called, for having tried to train trolls into learning ballet. The figures in the portrait did not cease their actions as she backtracked past it to avoid the approaching group.

Hermione found herself wishing she could find a place to hide, but she also found herself wishing she didn't have to run away from people. She wished she had someone in this school who she could call a friend – a true friend. Not a Neville Longbottom who stayed by her side because he was hopeless without her. And certainly not a gossiping, two-faced Lavender Brown or Parvati Patil!

As the voices drew even closer to the point where the owners would surely be upon her in a matter of seconds, Hermione saw a door. Preferring to face the unknown rather than deal with the impending embarrassment of facing the owners of the voices with her tear-covered face, wild hair, and runny nose, Hermione opened the door and ducked through.

* * *

><p>Perhaps she should have continued on in the opposite direction, for although she had wished to avoid facing the owners of the voices, she had been hoping that she would not have had to face anyone under her current condition. This was not to be the case, however, as she regarded the other occupant of the room.<p>

Sitting before her in a chair next to a fire was a boy who appeared to be about her age. He had dark, well-groomed hair and was wearing a Slytherin uniform. It appeared he had been reading a book when she had intruded upon him.

Although she only had a few classes with the Slytherins, she already knew she didn't particularly care for them. With students like Draco Malfoy, his goons, and that pug-faced Pansy Parkinson, Hermione Granger felt Slytherin was a house best to be avoided. However, from her encounters with the Slytherins, she could not recall the boy sitting before her as being one of them. Her memory rarely failed her.

"I'm sorry, I did not expect anyone to be here," Hermione said. She was surprised to discover that her voice did not sound as though she had been crying only seconds before. She still felt miserable though, and was about to duck back out of the room when the boy stopped her.

"I do not mind. I just did not expect anyone to stumble upon this room. How did you discover it, anyway?"

Hermione looked at him questioningly. From his words, it seemed as though the room they were in was something that had to be _discovered_.

Not really wanting to say that she had ended up in the room looking to avoid people, for he had seemed polite so far and to say so would make it seem as though she were a rude person, she said, "I was looking for a place to read, and saw the door. I didn't think there'd be someone in here already."

The boy closed the book he had been reading and placed it in his lap, studying her. He finally said, "I do not recall seeing you before, but those are Gryffindor robes and you seem to be my age. You are a first year too, are you not?"

Nodding her head, she replied, "Yes, I am. I was thinking the same thing. I had not seen you before. I have a few classes with the Slytherins, but I do not recognize you."

Surely she would have noticed the Slytherin sitting before her. For one, he was reading a book. She hadn't seen a Slytherin in the library before, let alone pick up a book that wasn't required for the class they were in. This boy was reading a rather large tome that did not appear to be a required class text. Surely she would have noticed a studious Slytherin.

"Well, my name is Hermione. I guess I pay less attention to the people around me than I think," Hermione explained, doubting that it was the case.

"I am Tom Riddle, and I somehow doubt that is the case," the boy claimed, sounding as though he too paid a great deal of attention to his surroundings, and therefore would not have missed recognizing her.

The two stared at each other again for another few moments, as if trying to determine if they actually had seen the other before. Realizing what they were doing, and what the other was doing, they both curved their lips upwards in a small smile.

"Well, I hope you don't mind me intruding on you, Tom. I really just wanted to find a place to hide-out for awhile and do some reading. I can imagine you wanted to do the same…" Hermione let her words trail off. There was a comfortable-looking chair situated across from where Tom was sitting in front of the fire. She imagined it would be nice to sit and read there. She supposed she would have to come back at a later time.

Turning to leave, Hermione was again stopped by the boy's voice.

"You can stay if you want," Tom said in a polite tone. He sounded as though he didn't actually mind her presence. She knew that even if people sounded polite, they didn't actually mean what they were saying. Tom didn't sound as though he was being polite just to be polite. He seemed more curious about her than anything.

"Thanks!" Hermione said with a real smile this time, hurriedly making her way over to the comfortable chair next to the fire. She could feel Tom's eyes watching her as she pulled out a book from her bag.

"What book is that?" Tom asked as he stared at the heavy tome. It was even larger than the one he had been reading, titled _Divination: The History of Dream Interpretation_.

"_Gringotts: History, Functions, and Security_," Hermione said, showing him the book cover with the emblem for the Gringotts Wizarding Bank emblazoned across the front in gold.

Tom looked at the book, and then at the girl sitting in front of him.

"Well, with the break-in being so popular in the news, I felt I should research more into the subject," Hermione explained, having noticed Tom's curious expression as to why she would be reading up on Gringotts. However, his expression gradually grew not only more curious, but now had hints of confusion.

"A break in at Gringotts? As in Gringotts Wizarding Bank?"

It was now Hermione's turn to be confused. She replied, "You mean you haven't heard about it after all this time? It happened at the end of July and it's been in the _Prophet_ ever since! You can't possibly tell me you haven't heard of it – if not from the paper, then at least from word of mouth? Hogwarts students like to gossip about big events, even several months after they happen."

Tom Riddle and Hermione Granger both looked at each other for a long while, as though the theory that had emerged in both their minds was now starting to sound slightly more reasonable.

"What is today's date?"

The question was asked simultaneously by both of the room's occupants.

Hermione answered first in a cautious tone, "Today is October 31…1991."

Tom appeared to be experiencing a mixture of shock and awe. After taking a moment to recover – although not fully – he said, "Today is October 31, 1938."

Not knowing what to say to the other, they sat in silence and tried to take in what they had just learned.

"So you live over fifty years before this conversation even takes place!" Hermione claimed excitedly, looking at boy who looked like any other student she could have bumped into in the hall. However, he was better groomed than most of the boys she knew – well, not Percy Weasley. They seemed to be on the same level of primness.

"And you live fifty years in the future!" The boy replied as several different questions emerged in his mind.

"But…how? I know Hogwarts is magical itself, but to go beyond the limits of time? That's amazing! _Hogwarts, A History_ never mentioned anything half as amazing as this," Hermione rambled quickly as she gazed at Tom with newfound interest.

"So, do you think if we both go out the door together that I would be in 1991, or that you would be in 1938?" Tom asked. He was mighty curious to find out what the future would be like. It was one thing to ask someone about it, but it was an entirely different thing to experience it for oneself.

"Let's find out!" Hermione said, wanting to discover the answer to his question – one that had passed through in her mind amongst many others. She was particularly knowledgeable about history – both Wizard history and Muggle history – because of her voracious appetite for knowledge in every subject. The boy in front of her could not possibly know that the Second World War was going to start the following year – if he was even interested in Muggle affairs.

Hermione and Tom both quickly made their way to the door.

"Okay, hopefully this works!" Hermione said, grabbing hold of the boy's hand. Before he could register his surprise at the contact, she had opened the door and walked through.

The hand that she had been holding was replaced by air, and the door that she had just emerged from had vanished.

* * *

><p>Back in 1938, Tom Riddle stared at the empty corridor and then gazed at his empty hand. He could still feel the warmth of where Hermione Granger's hand had rested only a moment ago.<p>

* * *

><p>AN: Hi! This story is unbeta'd, so I apologize for the pesky errors that get through. The story starts in the Halloween chapter of the first book, after Ron makes Hermione cry. Instead of going to the bathroom and encountering the troll, she ends up in the Room of Requirement with the eleven-year old Tom Riddle. I hope you will enjoy this story, and I will try to update as much as I can between school work and other interests. I've always wanted to contribute to the Tom Riddle and Hermione Granger ship, and I hope to entertain other fans of the pairing with this story. I chose to start the story in the first book for a few reasons. First, Hermione does not know Tom Riddle is Voldemort and she is not yet friends with Ron and Harry. Also, I can take the liberty in assuming that Tom does not know his true heritage and is not completely consumed by evil and darkness yet.


	2. Kitchen

Hermione had completely forgotten about how sad she had felt concerning Ron's comment now that she had been presented with a new challenge. It was impossible to forget the comment itself due to her spectacular memory, but Ron's words were rendered as irrelevant as those of Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. She wasn't about to begin feeling embarrassed about her reaction to the comment either. She had better things to focus on, such as the task before her concerning the vanishing room and its occupant from 1938.

Hermione wanted – no, _needed _– to find a way back into that room. She was not about to let the mystery of the vanishing room go unsolved, and she was most definitely not about to concede defeat by claiming the room and the boy were merely a part of her over-active imagination. Her rational mind knew otherwise.

Besides, she wasn't exactly starting from scratch in her quest to solve the mystery behind the room. Tom had mentioned the room had to be discovered. That was a start. If he had discovered the room's secret already, what was stopping her from discovering it too? Hermione was confident that she too would be able to solve the mystery behind the disappearing room and hopefully be able to meet the boy from the past once more.

Hermione spent the next hour trying to recreate the circumstances that had led her to the room. When retracing her steps seemed to produce no results, she attempted the revealing spell that she had learned from an advanced textbook. In order to ensure that she was performing the spell correctly, she had to cast a concealing charm – another spell from the same book – on her quill, followed by the revealing spell. After performing both successfully, she deduced that the room was not hidden by a concealing charm. She was sure that the location of the room was right in front of her, but the entrance to the room itself was what had to be discovered. Tom had seemed familiar with the room, so it was unlikely the room appeared in different locations around the school. She just needed to find out how to get the door to appear, but that was proving to be quite the challenge.

Unfortunately, she was certain that her beloved books would likely prove unhelpful in producing an answer that would solve the mystery behind the room. If _Hogwarts, A History_, the most detailed text written about the school, had not mentioned anything about a vanishing room, then it was unlikely that any book would possess the information she was looking for.

However, she was not at a complete loss. There were several Hogwarts residents who knew the school better than anyone else for they not only lived in the castle, but many had died there too – or had at least returned for their afterlife. The ghostly residents of the castle surely had to know about the room – they could walk through walls! She decided her best bet would be to ask the Gryffindor ghost, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington. Although the ghost was commonly known as Nearly Headless Nick, she figured that he would be more willing to help her out if she referred to him in the proper manner. He seemed to take offense when people referred to him by his nickname.

Hermione realized that dinnertime was soon approaching, and although she assumed it would be the best time to speak to the ghost (ghosts were actually quite hard to track down during the day), she knew it would also be the worst time due to the lack of privacy during meals. She didn't particularly want anyone else to discover her secret, not only because she desired a hiding place to get some work done, but also because she couldn't bear the thought of someone else meeting Tom Riddle before she found him again.

* * *

><p>The walk to the Great Hall had seemed to take double the amount of time it usually did. There were so many questions on her mind! She hardly even noticed that the entire room had been decorated for Halloween. The swarm of bats flying around the Great Hall did not even register in her mind as she scanned the Gryffindor table for the pearly-white ghost. When she could not find him sitting amongst her housemates, her gaze swept across the rest of the room. She finally found him over by the Ravenclaw table, engaged in a conversation with Ravenclaw's ghost, the Grey Lady.<p>

Hermione couldn't help letting a small sigh of disappointment escape her. It appeared she would have to seek out the Gryffindor ghost at another time.

"Uh, hi," she heard a familiar voice say from behind her. She already knew who the speaker was before she turned around.

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were standing in front of her, the redhead donning a nervous expression and the bespectacled boy attempting a polite smile.

Hermione felt a surge of bitterness rise up inside of her. Now that her quest to find out the secret behind the vanishing room had been temporarily halted due to her lead being currently occupied, she could feel her feelings from earlier resurface. However, the feelings had dulled considerably since that time and were no longer causing her to burst into tears. She just felt a surge of anger rise up in her chest as she stared at the boy who had offended her earlier.

Because Hermione had yet to say anything and Ron seemed to have clammed up himself, Harry decided he had to intervene. He jabbed the boy next to him a bit too forcefully with his elbow in an encouraging move to get him to say what needed to be said.

Ron grunted in pain at the impact and glared at the black-haired boy standing next to him, but after seeing Harry's expression, he decided to follow the unspoken command. Ron cleared his throat and mumbled, "I wanted to say sorry…about earlier."

Hermione couldn't help but think that Ron Weasley didn't sound incredibly sorry. She knew he likely felt obligated to apologize because he had seen her cry. She was aware that a crying girl could make just about any boy uncomfortable.

"There is no point in me accepting the word 'sorry' if there is no actual meaning behind it," Hermione informed him with a tone that sounded downright arctic even to her own ears.

Ron did not seem to know what to say, instead opting to stare at her for a long moment. When he finally registered that she had not forgiven him even though he had gone so far as to apologize, he turned to Harry and exclaimed, "See! I told you she wouldn't care."

Hermione resisted rolling her eyes at the redhead. Was he honestly turning this on her? Had he been sincere in his apology, she would have forgiven him. Because it was obvious he still disliked her and could care less about her feelings, she decided her best course of action would be to ignore him for the remaining years to come.

Harry, still trying to play the role of the diplomat, said, "Hermione, Ron is really sorry for what he said earlier. He didn't mean for you to hear it."

"Because it is such an improvement to say it when I'm not listening, right?" Hermione asked, feeling her mood grow increasingly sour.

"At least you wouldn't have to go crying about it," Ron grumbled as Harry tried to explain that he hadn't meant what he had said in the way she was interpreting it.

Hermione, fed up by the conversation, brushed past the two boys without another word.

She could hear the disgruntled redhead loudly engage his friend in an angry verbal assault against her person as she left the Great Hall.

* * *

><p>A few minutes later, Hermione found herself standing before a large portrait of a bowl of fruit. She had overheard Fred and George Weasley talking about the entrance to the school's kitchens earlier in the week. Although they claimed to be the best pranksters in the school, their greatest weakness – and seemingly a Weasley flaw – was speaking too loudly when discussing private matters. Although she hadn't intended on eavesdropping – and she wouldn't exactly call it eavesdropping because she had been trying her best not to snap at them for being so loud – their noisy conversation had actually proved quite useful (although she had not thought so at the time). If anything, they had been obnoxiously bothersome while she had been attempting to place the finishing touches on an assignment for Potions in the common room one night.<p>

Hermione, recalling the conversation she had overheard, reached out and tickled the green pear. Although she knew about the process of accessing the kitchens from the Weasley twins, she couldn't help but be a bit taken aback when the pear started giggling. Hermione kept tickling it until it transformed into a door handle.

She pulled on the handle and stepped into the room behind the portrait, only to be greeted by the sight of hundreds of small creatures scurrying about, placing plates of every type of food on four long tables. Apparently, the Halloween feast was about to start.

"Is there anything Jazzy can help you with, Miss?"

Hermione had to lower her gaze. Although Hermione was quite small compared to the older Hogwarts students (as her body was still developing), the creature standing before her – having just risen from a polite curtsey – was considerably shorter.

She knew the creatures were called house-elves. Hogwarts employed hundreds of them to perform many of the domestic tasks around the castle such as cooking and cleaning. The surprising thing was that nobody ever saw the house-elves in action. The elves worked in the early morning or late at night in order to clean up after the messy witches and wizards without so much as a thank you. To see such a large crowd of them in one place was truly a sight to behold!

Fortunately for Hermione, Jazzy the house-elf had waited patiently for the witch to address her. Hermione smiled kindly at the elf and inquired after something to eat, making sure to attach a sincere "please" to her request.

Jazzy curtseyed again before dashing off to complete the task.

While she waited for the elf's return, Hermione amused herself by watching the rest of the house-elves. They seemed to come in all shapes and sizes – although they were all much smaller than humans of course. Some elves had long ears that stuck out to the side; others had large, bug-like eyes; and one even had a nose that would have put Professor Snape's to shame! All of the house-elves wore the same uniform: a tea towel emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest, tied like a toga.

The frenzied movements seemed to have died down considerably since she first entered. The food that had been placed on the tables disappeared, undoubtedly appearing on the house tables waiting above in the Great Hall. With the main task of delivering the feast complete, the house-elves were able to chat amongst themselves. Some disappeared, likely to perform a different task in the castle.

Around this time, Jazzy reappeared. She led Hermione to a table near the fireplace with a comfortable-looking chair situated on the side. On the table were plates of food – a miniature feast prepared specially for her. She was surprised by the quantity, but her stomach would undoubtedly appreciate it. Her appetite, which had dwindled during her argument with Ron Weasley, was back in full force.

As soon as Jazzy had run off again, blushing at Hermione's "thank you", the bushy-haired girl had immediately started on her dinner. The food was delicious – even better than it would have been had she been eating in the Great Hall. This was probably due to the fact that she didn't have to watch Ron Weasley's disgusting eating habits as she sat alone at the table in the kitchens. Being alone was a nice change from eating with the rest of the Gryffindors. If she really thought about it, she had been eating alone every night since she arrived at Hogwarts. Although Neville might have spoken to her every now and again – usually inquiring about something relating to class – the rest of her housemates did their best to ignore her. She could be talking about something of great interest, but nobody would pay her an ounce of attention.

As she continued to eat, her mind went back to her current task. How was she to unlock the mystery behind the room from earlier? She had planned on asking the Gryffindor ghost at dinner, but he had been busy talking to the Ravenclaw ghost. Even though she would have waited on the ghosts to finish their conversation, her conversation with Ron Weasley had left her unwilling to remain in the room. With a heavy sigh, she couldn't help but wish that she had remained in the Great Hall. If she had been patient, she might have solved the mystery behind the vanishing room on the seventh floor by now.

Hermione couldn't help but lament her lost opportunity. If only there was another way for her to access information about the room. If only the ghosts were not the only ones who possessed a deep understanding of the castle. Surely there had to be another resident in the castle who knew the ups and downs, as well as the ins and outs of Hogwarts.

And then it hit her like a tea towel emblazoned with a Hogwarts crest.

"Jazzy!"

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you for taking the time to read my story, and a big thanks to those who go a step further and review it. Halloween is turning out to be a long day for Ms. Granger, and I haven't even addressed the troll yet. In addressing the matter brought up by _gobby-wobby_, I am going to try to keep Hermione unattached from Ron and Harry. If she did become friends with them, I can't imagine Tom and Hermione's friendship extending beyond second year! However, I will also try my best not to get either of the boys killed as a result.


	3. Come and Go Room

It turned out that Jazzy was incredibly knowledgeable about the castle. When Hermione had inquired about a vanishing room on the seventh floor near the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy, Jazzy had informed her that she knew exactly the room Hermione had been describing.

"Miss is referring to the Come and Go Room," Jazzy had told her. "Sometimes it is called the Room of Requirement."

Although Hermione had insisted that Jazzy call her by her name instead of "Miss", the house-elf had seemed incredibly put off by the idea. Not wanting to offend the house-elf or strip it of its limited freewill by ordering it to address her by her name, Hermione decided not to press the issue further. Besides, she was eager to learn more about this so-called Come and Go Room. Offending her only source of information would not do her any good.

Hermione was not satisfied with merely learning the room's name. In the minutes that followed, she asked Jazzy question after question about the room. Jazzy was only too happy to help.

"The Come and Go Room is a very amazing room, Miss. Those that find it usually never find it again, or they never realize they were in it to begin with. The room appears when one is in need of something."

"So if you needed a restroom, the room would appear as a bathroom?" Hermione inquired. She had decided to use a mild example because, if confirmed, it wouldn't be too far a leap to assume that the room's capabilities could apply to more complex needs, such as the need to see a boy from over fifty years in the past.

"Yes, Miss. That is exactly how the room works, but it is capable of many amazing things."

Hermione was already well aware of how capable the room was of performing amazing feats.

"And how exactly does a person get into this room?" Hermione questioned.

"If Miss is wishing to find the Come and Go Room, Miss must walk back and forth three times in front of the wall while thinking of what Miss is in need of. After Miss has done this three times, she will find the entrance."

Hermione honestly could not believe how lucky she had been. She had managed to find the answer to the mystery behind the room on the very same day the mystery presented itself. As much as Hermione hated to admit it, she owed part of her success to Ron Weasley for having irritated her to such an extent that she felt compelled to leave the Great Hall. However, this did nothing to numb her irritation toward the redhead; if anything, it only served to make it worse. That she would have to owe Ron Weasley anything was simply too much to stomach that night.

* * *

><p>Hermione left the kitchen with a smile on her face and a promise to come and visit Jazzy again. Now that she knew how to find the entrance to the Come and Go Room, she was excited to visit the room once more. She couldn't help but wonder if Tom Riddle would already be there. She bet he would be surprised that she had figured out the secret to the room so quickly. He probably expected that he would never see her again, and her appearance would surely come as a surprise!<p>

She had reached the seventh floor and was nearly to the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy when she was approached by the stern-faced Professor McGonagall.

"Ms. Granger, what could you possibly be doing outside of Gryffindor Tower? All students were ordered to their common rooms. There is a troll running around, for Merlin's sake!"

This was the first time she had heard anything about a troll. Hermione's surprise must have been evident to the older woman because Professor McGonagall's face softened a bit.

"Were you possibly in the restroom when the announcement was made, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione, not knowing whether the kitchen was off-bounds to students, and not particularly wanting to find out, nodded her head at the Gryffindor Head of House.

"Well, I will see you to the common room. Come along, Ms. Granger."

Hermione followed behind the Transfiguration teacher in silence. It seemed she would have to forego her visit to the Come and Go Room for now – at least until the commotion concerning the troll died down. Hermione couldn't help but feel a great deal of disappointment at this realization.

* * *

><p>Hermione stared blankly at the night sky from the window of the dorm room she shared with the other Gryffindor first year girls. She was the room's sole occupant at the moment as the other girls had decided to remain in the common room with the rest of their housemates.<p>

When Hermione had arrived at Gryffindor Tower with Professor McGonagall, she had entered the common room and immediately made a beeline for the girls' dormitory. She was eager to avoid the curious stares of her fellow housemates. If she had remained in the crowded room, her housemates would have undoubtedly asked her if she had seen the troll. After all, she had arrived several minutes later than the rest of the Gryffindors in addition to being escorted by their Head of House. She could already imagine the exaggerated rumors that were likely floating around the common room in her absence.

Professor McGonagall had not remained at Gryffindor Tower for very long. As soon as she had ensured that Hermione had managed to get safely inside, she had quickly departed. Hermione could only assume that the members of the Hogwarts staff were tasked with neutralizing the troll. She was confident that they would be able to do so before the night ended. She had read that trolls were not remarkably smart creatures despite possessing incredible strength. A capable witch or wizard would be able to defeat a troll with relative ease.

Unfortunately, with the threat of a troll roaming around, Hermione couldn't possibly test her theory about the Come and Go Room tonight. She would have to try tomorrow when the issue involving the troll had been resolved.

Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil entered the room abruptly, giggling and chatting animatedly. Their entrance put an end to the peaceful solitude Hermione had been enjoying.

"I can't believe Harry Potter and Ron Weasley defeated the troll!" Parvati exclaimed to her friend in delight.

Hermione couldn't possibly have heard them correctly. She remained silent, hoping the girls would elaborate on the subject.

"I just can't believe Ron used _Wingardium Leviosa_ to knock the troll out with its own club! He is positively brilliant!" Lavender gushed, admiration evident in her tone.

"Wait, _what_?" Hermione couldn't help but utter in shock, although she couldn't determine if her shock was the result of Lavender using brilliant to describe Ron Weasley or if it was from Lavender saying Ron had managed to cast _Wingardium Leviosa._

Hermione was positive that Ron Weasley was not among the few in their class to successfully perform the basic levitation spell during the Charms lesson. The last thing she wanted to hear was that he had been successful in the very spell that had caused him to be so mean to her earlier, especially when she was the one who had helped him learn it!

Lavender and Parvati were staring at her as though they hadn't realized she was in the room.

"Hermione, you haven't heard?" Lavender asked.

"Well, I heard it from you just now, haven't I?" Hermione replied, finding the question quite stupid. Her tone must have channeled her thoughts because Lavender looked quite slighted by her words, but her love for spreading gossip seemed to overcome any offense she may have felt.

"Harry and Ron saved Neville from the troll in the boy's bathroom!" Lavender exclaimed. "Harry stuck his wand up the troll's nose and Ron managed to bash it over the head with its club using the spell we learned in charms. Those two sure are amazing, huh? I, for one, am glad that we have such capable boys in Gryffindor!"

Parvati and Lavender both squealed in delight.

Hermione couldn't help but think that sticking a wand up a troll's nose – let alone anything's nose – was not the type of behavior one would typically refer to as capable. And the fact that _Wingardium Leviosa_ had managed to knock out a troll seemed like dumb luck, especially since she knew the caster was a wizard as incompetent as Ron Weasley.

"What were the three of them doing in the bathroom anyways? Wasn't everyone told to return to their common room?" Hermione inquired.

Lavender and Parvati looked positively thrilled that Hermione wanted to participate in a conversation normal people were interested in.

"Well, Neville was doing what you think a boy would be doing in a bathroom," Lavender said, her cheeks flushing red in embarrassment as Parvati giggled. Hermione really couldn't see what was so funny about what Lavender had said. All creatures had to expel their waste somehow; doing so was a natural process. Parvati laughing about it only reinforced Hermione's observation of how immature she was.

Parvati continued the story since Lavender had yet to recover from her embarrassment, "Harry and Ron had been returning to Gryffindor Tower with the rest of us, but when we got to the common room, we noticed they weren't behind us anymore! Apparently they had realized that Neville wasn't with us. I think I recall Neville excusing himself before Professor Quirrell came in raving about a troll."

"Why didn't they tell one of the professors about Neville?" Hermione inquired.

The two girls shrugged at her, but Lavender was the one to reply, "They probably knew that they were perfectly capable of defeating the troll. They even received five points each for Gryffindor! Those two sure are amazing for first years."

Even though they had managed to save Neville Longbottom from the troll, Hermione thought that rewarding the boys for their stunt was going a bit too far. The responsible action would have been to inform one of the teachers. Instead, the boys had rushed off to play hero. Neville could have been seriously hurt – or worse, killed – had the two boys been unable to defeat the troll.

Hermione had fallen silent as she mused over what she had been told. Lavender and Parvati decided to change the topic to which of the two boys was the more attractive one. Parvati was arguing that Harry was more attractive than Ron while Lavender was arguing that Ron was more attractive than Harry. Hermione, who found neither of the two boys attractive and thought the entire conversation stupid and a waste of time, decided to get ready for bed.

However, when Hermione returned twenty minutes later, freshly showered and donning comfortable pajama shorts and a t-shirt, she discovered that she was once again the room's sole occupant.

Lavender and Parvati had left her a note on her bed. The words were written in a girly pink ink: "_Hermione, Professor McGonagall came by. We can return to the Great Hall for dinner_." Hermione was surprised that they had left a note, for she wouldn't put it past the two girls to not do so in an attempt to make her suffer. However, since she had already eaten, Hermione tossed the note into the waste bin.

Suddenly, Hermione realized the chance she had just been presented with. With the rest of the school at dinner and the troll no longer a threat, she was free to visit the Come and Go Room without interruption. Not willing to waste anymore time before her housemates returned, Hermione grabbed her book bag and wand before hurriedly rushing from the room.

* * *

><p>She found herself standing once more in front of the stretch of wall where she had been earlier that day. On her walk from the common room to her current destination, several doubts had plagued her mind. She had wondered whether Jazzy had actually given her the right information and whether or not she'd be able to see Tom Riddle again. But Hermione knew the only way she'd be able to put an end to her doubts was to face them once and for all.<p>

Taking a deep breath, Hermione began walking back and forth. She thought of how much she wanted to see the boy from the past again and how much she wanted to be in the room they had been in earlier.

When she had passed the section of the wall for the third time, Hermione was pleasantly surprised to see the familiar door appear before her.

Hermione reached forward and grabbed the handle, pulling the door open. She stepped inside with a heart full of hope.

"You sure decided to cut it close to curfew. I was wondering if you were ever coming back."

Hermione gave the boy sitting in front of her a large, toothy smile.

"Hello again, Tom."

* * *

><p>AN: To those of you thinking "Hermione sure found the answer to her problem with relative ease", I will reply with, "Did you really want to spend another two Tom-less chapters while Hermione runs around doing research, struggling to find the room?" I sure didn't!


	4. Immortality

The feeling of déjà vu was not lost on her.

Tom Riddle had been reading a book when she had stumbled upon him for the second time that day. She could tell it was not the same book from earlier (_Divination: The History of Dream Interpretation_, if she recalled correctly) because the one he was currently holding appeared to be significantly larger. The cozy fire behind the chair he occupied illuminated his pale complexion and made the rest of the room feel comfortable and inviting.

Hermione made her way toward the chair situated across from where Tom Riddle sat. She could feel the boy's eyes trailing her movements, but he remained silent while he waited for her to take her seat.

"Today has been an eventful day," Hermione confessed as she sat down in the chair. She placed her book bag on the floor next to her feet, but withdrew her wand from its confines. From the moment she had chosen her wand in Mr. Ollivander's shop, she had always felt a degree of ease by keeping it on her person at all times. The weight of the wood in her hands provided her with a reassuring and comfortable sense of security.

Tom had placed the book in his lap and was resting his slender hands against it. A quick glance at the cover allowed Hermione to see the book was titled_ An Encyclopedia of Potion Ingredients_. She could recall skimming through the book once for an assignment Professor Snape had given the class, but she had never read through the entire thing. The book Tom was holding seemed considerably newer than the one she had briefly perused a few months ago, but his version had yet to experience fifty years of dusty shelves.

"I assume your statement extends beyond discovering a room that defies the laws of time?" Tom inquired.

"Your assumption is correct," Hermione confirmed.

"So where were you for the past several hours?"

"Well, after we tested out whether we could travel through time – and might I admit how disappointed I was to find out that we could not? – I realized the room had disappeared," Hermione explained.

"I will also confess that I was disappointed by the turn of events. I would have liked to see how the world will change over the next five decades," Tom admitted, his tone conveying his disappointment. "As for your disappearance, when you did not return immediately, I realized you probably did not know how to find the room."

Hermione confirmed his statement with a nod before launching into her explanation, "What you said earlier really helped me out – about the room having to be discovered. I deduced that the room was in the same location as it had been, but the entrance was merely concealed. I don't really want to bore you with the details about everything that I went through to find the answer behind the room, but as you can see, I have solved the mystery." A smile crept onto her lips as she recalled how proud she felt for finding the room so soon.

"Actually, I would rather like to hear how you managed to find the room," Tom said, surprising Hermione. She could tell that she had captured his interest from the tone of his voice and how he had leaned forward in his seat. Hermione rarely encountered anyone who had any interest in what she had to say.

Tom went on to explain the reason for his interest when Hermione did not respond immediately, "I concede that the room took me slightly longer than a day to find. I am impressed that you discovered it so quickly, so I am eager to learn how you accomplished the feat."

"If you don't mind, I would first like to hear about how you found the room," Hermione said. Although she would have been more than happy to oblige the boy's request in explaining how she had found the room, her curiosity concerning how he had found the room had loomed over her ever since she had started her own search.

Tom seemed to have no reservations in recounting his tale about the room. He complied without complaint, "I found the room when I was exploring the castle one day. I had been searching for a spot where I could read in peace. You have no idea how unpleasant my housemates can be" – Hermione's sympathetic expression informed Tom that she actually did possess an idea as to how unpleasant Slytherins (and other students in general) could be – "When I came searching for the room again, I found that it was no longer there.

"I spent a week researching about vanishing rooms in the library. I managed to find an old book in the archives that mentioned a room on the seventh floor that would appear when a person was in need of something. It turned out that the book had been referring to the room I had discovered."

When Tom had finished his tale, Hermione frowned. She had dismissed the idea of the room being in a book because the room had not been mentioned in _Hogwarts, A History. _Perhaps she should have relied on the books more, but Tom had mentioned the search had taken him considerably longer than a day.

"What was the book called?" Hermione inquired out of curiosity.

"That is a secret that will never be passed down to anyone," Tom said with a smirk. Hermione had seen the same facial expression before on Draco Malfoy and a few other Slytherins, usually when they had just successfully managed something underhanded or had mocked another student. She wondered if it was something Slytherins naturally picked up during their time at Hogwarts.

It took her a few moments, but Hermione, having thought about what Tom had just said, gasped in horror when the realization of what he had been implying dawned on her.

"You destroyed a library book!" Hermione exclaimed in shock and amazement. She was shocked that he would actually go so far as to destroy school property, and amazed that he would possess the audacity to do so!

Tom looked oddly pleased that Hermione had discovered his true meaning. Hermione wondered why, but could not think of a suitable explanation.

"Well, I couldn't have people finding out about my secret room and interrupting my peace and solitude, now could I? Though, I must admit, I'm rather glad the only person to find the room so far has been someone worth sharing the room with," Tom explained.

Hermione felt slightly placated by his comment, but she was still shocked that the boy in front of her had destroyed a book – a book that might have been the only one of its kind!

"I just can't believe you destroyed a book," Hermione admitted with a groan.

"It's not as if you needed a book to find the room after all," Tom commented.

"Well, could you at least tell me what the book was about?" Hermione asked, knowing that the only way she would possess the information that was forever lost would be to ask the boy sitting across from her.

"You still owe me the tale of how you managed to find the room. If you tell me, I may feel inclined to tell you about what I learned from the book," Tom said with a grin, knowing exactly how valuable his knowledge was to her.

"And what happens if you forget what was in the book?" Hermione asked in an attempt to convince him to impart the knowledge he had learned from the destroyed book.

"I have a great memory, so I won't forget it," Tom informed her with a haughty tone. "And you won't be hearing a single word about it until I hear the entire story of how you found the room."

Hermione felt her lips form a pout, but her expression only seemed to amuse her companion. With a sigh and a forlorn look at the Slytherin boy, she resumed her story.

"After you and the door disappeared, I first tried retracing my steps. When that did not work, I wondered whether the room was hidden by a concealing charm. I tried to cast a revealing spell on the wall, but that did not work either."

"That is not a spell that first years are taught, and I doubt the curriculum has changed so dramatically over the next five decades," Tom commented with a hint of admiration.

Hermione was pleased that someone besides her professors was impressed by her accomplishments. She was more than happy to elaborate on the subject.

"Well, after memorizing all the textbooks for our first year, I decided to start reading our second and third year textbooks as well. The library has a few extra copies on the shelves; however, I can't seem to find the Astronomy textbook for third year. I do plan to review the books when they are actually assigned, but I felt I should try to get a head start so I will have time to read other books as well."

Tom looked impressed by what Hermione had said. He told her, "I thought I was the only one who read the textbooks ahead of time. I would be surprised if some of my classmates have even opened a book before."

Hermione giggled, for she could think of a few students who could be accused of the same.

"Now where was I? Oh, yes, revealing spells. After I realized that the room was not concealed by a charm, I figured I would ask one of the castle's ghosts. It was nearly dinner by this time, so I went to the Great Hall. Unfortunately, Sir Nick – the ghost I was going to ask – was already occupied," Hermione said. She paused, wondering if she should explain how she ended up in the kitchen. Did she really want to mention Ron Weasley to Tom?

"And then what?" Tom inquired, for Hermione had gone silent.

Deciding there really was no point to not including Ron in the story, Hermione continued recounting her tale, "A boy from my house showed up, and the two of us don't exactly get along. He's a complete idiot, anyway. Rather than stay in the Great Hall and deal with him I decided to have dinner in the kitchen."

Tom Riddle looked slightly envious that she knew where the Hogwarts' kitchen was.

"Where is the kitchen?" Tom inquired eagerly.

"If you go down the staircase leading to the Hufflepuff common room, you will find a still-life painting of a bowl of fruit. You have to tickle the pear to gain access to the kitchen," Hermione explained.

"How did you ever discover that?" He asked, seemingly amazed by her explanation.

Hermione told him about overhearing the Weasley twins in the Gryffindor common room. At the mention of the Weasley name, Tom's face had grown into a scowl. At Hermione's confused look, he explained his dislike for the Weasley family.

"There is a Gryffindor named William Weasley in my year who is a complete moron. I was partnered with him for potions one class and he messed up our assignment by pouring in an ingredient that wasn't even included in the instructions! Who adds peppermint to a boil cure potion? Why would you even consider adding peppermint to a boil cure potion? Weasley is a complete and utter idiot if there ever was one. It is a shame to learn that his line has continued."

Hermione, unable to suppress her laughter, erupted into giggles after Tom ended his rant.

"He sounds exactly like Ron Weasley. He's the boy I had to deal with at dinner. Ron is completely helpless at, well, everything," Hermione explained with a laugh.

Tom looked amused at the girl's humor as he said, "I must confess. I had thought all Gryffindors were like William Weasley. I've yet to meet a Gryffindor who has diminished this notion.

Hermione, having sobered from her laughter, glared at him pointedly, but a light smile graced her lips.

"I should have been in Ravenclaw," Hermione confessed. She had never admitted this to anyone before. It felt odd saying it now.

Tom shook his head before saying, "I will deny it if you tell anyone, but I think I can tolerate Gryffindors better than Ravenclaws. At least the idiots in Gryffindor do not pretend to be smarter than they actually are."

Hermione started laughing again. Suddenly, she felt much better about her house, even if her housemates consisted of several people she didn't particularly like.

"Well, the Slytherin house isn't exactly any better," Hermione teased. "Everyone is incredibly stuck up about blood purity. A lot of them are incredibly stupid, likely as a result of excessive inbreeding. Pansy Parkinson, Gregory Goyle, and Vincent Crabbe are prime examples."

Tom looked slightly amused, but then his face fell into one of deep concentration.

"What is the matter? I am sorry, I did not mean to accuse you of inbreeding," Hermione said, her tone apologetic. She was worried that she had offended her companion, one that she had been getting along so well with until her jibe at his house.

"Do you happen to know anyone by the name of Riddle?" Tom asked, breaking Hermione out of her thoughts.

Hermione bit her lower lip. Although she did interact a great deal with the older students, she was aware that "Riddle" was not an extremely commonplace name.

Tom could tell from her silence what her answer would be.

"Maybe you end up having a daughter," Hermione suggested. "Or maybe they already graduated."

"Or maybe I am dead by your time," Tom said.

Hermione would not have voiced that, even though she had thought of it as one of the explanations.

"There are a lot of other explanations, Tom! Maybe your latest descendant is still too young to attend Hogwarts. Maybe you just decide not to have kids. Or perhaps you change your name or move to a different country. You really can't think that you would have died. Wizards and witches live longer lives than non-magical people do," Hermione said, trying to cheer up the boy sitting across from her. Unfortunately, she seemed unsuccessful in her attempts.

"And if I have died? People die all the time from things unrelated to old age, even wizards and witches."

Hermione suddenly remembered what she had realized earlier, about how the boy sitting in front of her had no idea that that the Second World War would occur soon. And she knew that Gellert Grindelwald, the darkest wizard before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would also reach the height of his power during Tom Riddle's time. There was a chance that the boy sitting in front of her could very well die during an aerial strike or from a stray dark curse. Even if he did live beyond both events, there was always He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rising to power later in the boy's life.

Hermione had never before appreciated how peaceful her world was. The boy in front of her would not have the same luxury.

"Why don't I finish my story?" Hermione inquired, trying to lighten the mood.

Although Tom did not seem willing to let go of the thoughts of his demise, he was interested in hearing the remainder of how Hermione had managed to find the room. He directed his full attention to the girl sitting in front of him as she resumed her tale.

"I ended up in the kitchen and realized that the house elves – they work in the castle, cleaning and cooking – were likely knowledgeable about the castle. I asked a house elf if they knew of this room, and it turned out the house elf knew exactly what I was talking about. They called the room 'The Come and Go Room', but they also mentioned another name, 'The Room of Requirement'. They told me what I had to do to get into the room."

Tom nodded his head absently before saying, "The author of the book hadn't named the room, but those seem to fit well."

Hermione frowned, still wishing she could find out about the book he had destroyed.

"Although I was eager to return to the room, I was informed by a professor that all students were to return to their common rooms because a troll had entered the castle."

"There was a troll in Hogwarts?" Tom asked, seemingly surprised by the thought.

"I do not know how it got in, but the common guess is that Peeves had let it in as a joke."

"It seems a little dangerous even for Peeves. He seems to prefer pelting school supplies over having students killed by a magical creature," Tom commented. Hermione agreed with him, but she could not think of a suitable explanation for the troll's presence.

"Anyway, these two Gryffindor first years – Harry Potter and Ron Weasley – managed to defeat the troll."

"They did?" Tom asked. He seemed as surprised as Hermione had been at the news.

Hermione explained what she had heard from Lavender and Parvati in the dorm room. After she had finished telling Tom how the boys had managed to defeat the troll, Tom's face looked particularly disgusted.

"I think _stupefy_ would have sufficed," Tom commented, to which Hermione agreed. "Using _Wingardium Leviosa_ to defeat a troll sounds like dumb luck."

"But then again, it's not like we are supposed to have learned _stupefy _yet," Hermione countered.

The two shared a grin. Both of them had already learned the particular spell during their spare time, regardless of what the first year's curriculum consisted of.

"After the troll had been dealt with, the students were called back to dinner. I decided I would test the room out since everyone would be at dinner, and, well, here I am."

"I am glad that you were able to find the room again," Tom confessed.

"Now will you tell me what you learned from the book you destroyed?" Hermione inquired with a smile. She was happy that Tom had admitted to wanting her around.

Tom smirked at her before saying, "I think it is too late to do so, but perhaps tomorrow."

Hermione frowned despite knowing that Tom was right. It was getting late, and she had classes the next day.

"Shall we meet back here tomorrow afternoon? What time does your last class end?"

Tom grimaced as he replied, "At two, but unfortunately I have Transfiguration with Dumbledore as my last class."

Hermione looked surprised. Although she had read that Dumbledore had once taught Transfiguration at Hogwarts before becoming Headmaster of the school, she could scarcely imagine having him as a teacher. Despite Professor McGonagall being her favorite professor, Hermione could only dream about having a legend like Dumbledore teaching the class.

"You don't like him?" Hermione questioned.

"He doesn't seem to like me very much," Tom said with a bitter tone. "He never calls on me during class and he never seems to acknowledge when I do something right before anyone else."

Hermione wondered about what Tom had said. Although she did not interact a great deal with the Headmaster, he seemed nice enough. It was hard to believe that he would treat Tom exactly like Professor Snape treated her during class.

"Perhaps he plays house favorites? I have Potions with the Slytherin Head of House. He treats me the same way it sounds like Dumbledore treats you. And he never grants Gryffindor house points."

"Professor Slughorn?" Tom asked.

"No, the current Slytherin Head of House and Potions Master is Professor Snape. He looks a bit greasy, honestly," Hermione said, unable to resist adding the last part.

Tom seemed to think the image of a greasy Potions professor rather funny, for a smirk had crept onto his lips.

"Dumbledore is the Headmaster now," Hermione said, watching Tom's face fall immediately at the news.

"The future sounds like a terrible place," Tom stated with a gloomy tone.

Hermione giggled before saying, "It's not that bad at all."

* * *

><p>The two first years parted ways with only minutes to spare before curfew went into effect, but not before promising each other to return back after classes had ended the next day. Hermione was glad that the room was so close to Gryffindor Tower. Tom would have to make his way all the way down to the lowest level of the castle to reach his common room. She hoped he would be able to make it to the common room in time in order to avoid receiving a detention. Or at least, if he did not make it back in time, that he would be able to avoid punishment.<p>

As she relaxed against the comfortable pillows of her four-poster bed, listening to Lavender's soft snores, Hermione concluded that Tom was the first actual friend she had made since coming to the school. Even if he was from over fifty years in the past, he was a much better companion that any of her classmates in the present.

Hermione fell asleep that night eagerly anticipating her next visit to the Come and Go Room.

* * *

><p>Back in 1938, as Tom collapsed into his bed, he thought about Hermione Granger and all of what he had learned from the conversation they had had only minutes ago. Although Hermione had attempted to take his mind off of the uncertainty of his future, now that he was alone, he could not help but worry that maybe he would not exist during Hermione's lifetime.<p>

On October 31, 1938, Tom Riddle resolved to find a way to live forever.

* * *

><p>AN: Our two kindred souls unite once more, for better or for worse! Thank you for all your reviews.


	5. Disillusionment

Hermione Granger nibbled on a piece of toast as she absorbed the words in the book _A Practical Guide to Invisibility, Vanishing, and Disillusionment_. She was sitting in the empty corridor next to the Potions classroom, enjoying the peace that came with being the only one present. She had opted to sit in the hallway rather than eat breakfast with the rest of the school in the Great Hall because the level of noise had served only to disrupt her concentration.

Hermione had not been surprised by the gossip, rumors, and stories that were floating about that morning concerning the events of the previous night. After all, it wasn't every day that a troll roamed the hallways of Hogwarts, only to be defeated by a pair of first years in the boy's bathroom. Until last night's occurrence, the juiciest gossip had been concerning the Gringotts break-in – and that had been months ago. Sure, relatively small events were thrown into the mix, such as the Weasley twin's latest prank, Peeves' misdeeds, or Neville Longbottom's most recent blunder, but all these events were everyday occurrences. The defeat of a troll by a pair of first years was something the students would be talking about until Christmas.

She had been able to tolerate the noisy chatter while she ate her morning meal and read her book, but her patience reached its limit when Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Neville Longbottom entered the Great Hall nearly fifteen minutes after she had arrived. The uproar of the students at their arrival was Hermione's cue to depart, but not before grabbing two pieces of toast to take with her.

The Gryffindor and Slytherin first years had only one class on Fridays, a double session of Potions with Professor Snape. All the Gryffindor first years agreed that it was a horrible way to start the weekend because Professor Snape was a complete sadist and enjoyed saddling them with a twelve-inch essay every week to be due the following Friday.

The assignments did not bother her. Nor did she mind the lengthy three hours of lecture and subsequent potion-brewing as much as the other students. However, she did dislike how blatantly obvious Professor Snape's favoritism was. She could imagine the class would be better had the Gryffindors been paired with either Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. With Slytherin comprising the other half of the room, the Gryffindors were either mocked (in many cases) or ignored (in Hermione's case). Professor Snape always found an excuse to subtract house points from Gryffindor and grant house points to Slytherin during class. The most blatant attempt was when he had given a house point to Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe for turning in a potion even though the concoction they had produced had not been the cough-stopper the class had been assigned.

The first day of November had brought with it considerably colder weather. The corridor had been quite cold and drafty, but Hermione was well aware that the dungeon was the coldest part of the castle. Fortunately, she had possessed the foresight to learn a heating charm in anticipation of the declining weather.

Ever since arriving at Hogwarts, Hermione had felt the desire to expand her knowledge as much as possible in all areas of magic. While the introductory magic had been fascinating to Hermione during the first few weeks of September, she had not been content with knowing the basics. Transfiguring small objects and casting the simplest of charms simply did not hold the same appeal. The only way to solve this problem had been to advance her magical abilities.

When she first started teaching herself advanced spells, she had started off small. She would expand on spells that she had already learned. While the rest of the students in her year had just recently mastered _Lumos_, she could already expel spheres of light from the tip of her wand. As her classmates struggled with levitating a feather a few feet in the air, Hermione tackled the method of slowing down the momentum of an object's descent.

Now she was attempting to learn something that most of the upperclassmen were likely incapable of performing: human disillusionment.

_A Practical Guide to Invisibility, Vanishing, and Disillusionment_ was proving to be a valuable resource. After last night's encounter with the Slytherin boy from 1938, Hermione had reasoned that future late night adventures would require a means of not getting caught. Although the distance between the Come and Go Room and Gryffindor Tower granted very slim chances of Hermione being discovered wandering the castle at night, she worried about her new-found friend, Tom Riddle. The Slytherin common room would be a significant walk to and from the seventh floor where the room was located.

Hermione could already make objects turn invisible, but she was having trouble getting the spell to work on the human body. When she had first attempted the charm on herself earlier that morning, the result had been a transparency that could rival that of a castle ghost. Her unsatisfactory attempt led to her decision to consult the library before going to breakfast.

Unfortunately, the first part of the book was merely a refresher on how to turn objects invisible. Hermione was already capable of doing this with great ease. However, she had managed to pick up the rather useful vanishing spell, _Evanesco_. She wished she had something to test it out on. Perhaps she would try to use it on Lavender Brown's sickeningly sweet-smelling perfume when she returned to Gryffindor Tower later.

"Ms. Granger, whatever are you doing blocking my door so early in the morning?" sneered a familiar voice.

Hermione glanced up from where she was sitting to stare at the hook-nosed, greasy-haired Potions Master. She had not even heard his approach for she had been so absorbed by the text she was reading.

She was not blocking the door in any sense. Although her bag was near the entrance, Professor Snape was perfectly capable of opening the door without interference. Regardless of the reality of the situation, she drew the offending bag closer to her person.

"Good morning, Professor," Hermione greeted politely. "I was merely getting some reading out of the way."

"And might I inquire as to why you decided to 'get some reading out of the way' in my corridor when you could be doing the same in the Great Hall?"

Hermione felt that the Professor was being incredibly rude using such a condensing tone. Then again, everything she had ever heard him say sounded condensing. Perhaps that was just how he talked.

"The Great Hall was particularly loud today. It was impossible to concentrate," Hermione stated, not bothering to point out that her reason was really none of his concern. Professor Snape could not subtract points from her house because of her decision to sit next to the classroom before class started. There was no policy stating that it was against the rules. Then again, if he did want to subtract house points, she was not going to argue and earn herself a detention for supposed impudence. The unfairness of the point system was causing her to grow weary of the competition altogether.

Hermione assumed the Potions Master was trying to bait her into saying something he could subtract points for; however, she kept her tongue in check and remained polite. Harry Potter certainly could have learned a few lessons from her since he was always giving Professor Snape reasons to subtract house points.

Professor Snape studied the Gryffindor girl for a moment before opening the classroom door. He held the door open, as if expecting her to enter the room before him.

"Come inside, Ms. Granger. The last thing I need is you falling sick in a drafty corridor and contaminating the other students," Professor Snape told her. His tone suggested that he thought she was daft no matter how smart she or others believed her to be.

Hermione stood up and followed him in with a neutral face, but not before audibly removing the heating charm that she had placed on herself. The look on Professor Snape's face seemed to worsen, but he did not comment as he closed the door behind them.

* * *

><p>The next thirty minutes before class started was spent in silence. Neither of the room's two occupants uttered a word. The only sounds were Professor Snape's quill furiously marking up the papers he was grading and Hermione turning the pages in her book. She would hold off on practicing the spell until later because the last thing she wanted to do was break the mutual silence.<p>

Hermione had come to the conclusion that she greatly preferred being ignored by the Potions Master than having his attention. Speaking to him only brewed angry thoughts in her mind. His bitterness appeared to be contagious.

She wondered if Professor Slughorn, the Potions Master and Slytherin Head of House who Tom Riddle had mentioned, was any better. She would have to ask Tom about that later. Perhaps they could compare their professors sometime. The only professor she was positive they shared in common was the History of Magic instructor, Professor Binns.

Hermione knew that the Gryffindor first years preferred to delay their arrival as much as possible by slowing their steps considerably after departing the Great Hall, so she was not surprised when the entire Slytherin half of the class appeared before a single Gryffindor did. Even when she wasn't skipping breakfast to sit in the Potions classroom with one of her least favorite professors, Hermione was usually the first Gryffindor to arrive, so her presence was of no surprise to the Slytherins.

The Slytherins ignored her, deciding instead to converse quietly in their seats at the front of the room before class started. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between Gryffindor and Slytherin. The only time the members of the two houses interacted was when they were making fun of one another. Hermione thought it was very stupid and childish, and was determined to ignore the Slytherins all together. Gradually the Slytherins had learned to do the same, especially since she did not retaliate against their taunts.

Mudblood was a slur that meant little to her. Was she supposed to care that she was not a member of a line that only preserved its supposed purity by marrying family members? Muggles had already proved that inbreeding led to a variety of problems such as reduced fertility, genetic disorders, higher infant mortality rate, as well as other severe complications. The pure-blooded families would die out completely if they continued in such a manner.

Besides, for people who believed they were so superior because of their blood, they were unable to match her superior _mudblood_ intellect. The joke was on them every time they attempted to insult her heritage. The smarter Slytherins seemed to understand this for they had stopped using the insult much sooner than the rest of their housemates.

When taunts at her lack of magical ancestry seemed ineffective, the Slytherins had tried to insult how she looked. The jeers at her physical appearance were also met with deaf ears. She had enough practice in dealing with those insults by rooming with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. Besides, the Slytherin population had several members who were far more unfortunate looking than the Gryffindor bookworm.

Unlike the witches and wizards who grew up in magical families, Hermione had attended school with Muggles. Before coming to Hogwarts, she had already been exposed to just how cruel and judgmental other children could be.

Hermione's observation ended when the Gryffindors finally filed into the room two minutes before class was due to start. They were solemn as they passed through the door. Not a single one was looking forward to the day's lesson.

The Gryffindors that arrived before the others would take the seats in the very back, doing their best to avoid Snape's hawkish eyes. Their efforts were always in vain, however. Snape would pay special attention to the Gryffindor half of the classroom. He was always roaming the back of the room, looking for a chance to deduct house points or breathing down a student's neck to encourage blunders resulting from nervousness.

With less than a minute to spare before class started, Neville Longbottom joined Hermione at her table, situated in the first row behind the Slytherin first years. Hermione watched as Harry Potter and Ron Weasley grudgingly took the seats next to Neville. A quick glance around the room revealed to Hermione that the three boys were the last to enter the classroom. She could also tell that they were not at all happy with the seating arrangement.

Harry had thankfully sat next to Neville, with Ron sitting on Harry's other side. This put enough room in between her and the redhead. She would be able to deal with this.

Hermione closed the book she had been reading, trading the tome for her notebook, text book, and writing supplies.

The boys followed her example.

"Pass your homework to the front of the room," Snape ordered. He was never one to bother with pleasantries. When the papers were in a neat stack on his desk, he launched into the day's task. "By the end of today's lesson, you will all know how to make the Dreamless Sleep Potion," Professor Snape stated. "This is, of course, regardless of whether you actually manage to brew the potion."

The Slytherins chuckled at his words. A few even turned around to smirk at the Gryffindors in the back of the room.

Hermione was reminded of Tom Riddle's smirk. She preferred his to pug-faced Pansy Parkinson's any day. Hermione's unfazed look left Pansy turning around in her seat with a huff. For some reason, the Slytherin girl had thought she was incapable of brewing the potion, which would have incited laughter had Hermione not wanted to invoke Professor Snape's wrath.

She caught Neville's leg shaking under the table. The Slytherins' terror tactics were already working.

"Does anyone know what a Dreamless Sleep Potion does?" Snape asked.

Hermione did not even bother to raise her hand. The question was simple. Several hands in the class were raised to answer.

He called on Gregory Goyle in the second row.

"It gives the user a dreamless sleep," Goyle answered.

"A point to Slytherin," Professor Snape said. Hermione could hear her housemates groan behind her. "Would anyone care to add to Mr. Goyle's answer?"

When none of her classmates raised their hand, Hermione held up hers.

He ignored her. "Mr. Potter, would you please inform the class what else the Dreamless Sleep Potion does?"

Hermione lowered her hand. The last thing her housemates needed was Harry Potter repeating his words from the first day of Potions class. _"I don't know. I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"_ The words had caused her a great deal of embarrassment at the time. Hermione did not feel too keen on giving Harry another reason to annoy Professor Snape.

Hermione frowned as Harry answered that he did not in fact know. Professor Snape responded by deducting a point from Gryffindor. She could hear her housemates whispering about how much of a git Professor Snape was under their breath, but they were silenced immediately when Professor Snape glared daggers at the back portion of the room.

"One would think you would learn to come prepared by now, Mr. Potter," Professor Snape sneered while the Slytherins laughed. Hermione could see Harry's face turning red with anger from where she was sitting. "The Dreamless Sleep Potion aids in speeding up the process of recuperation."

Hermione scratched the property into her notes despite her prior knowledge of the potion's properties. She even knew the ingredients without having to open _Magical Drafts and Potions_.

"You will be working individually and in silence. You have until the end of class to complete the potion and deliver a vial to my desk. The assignment due next week is eight-inches of parchment on the side effects of excessive Dreamless Sleep Potion consumption. Leave when you are done."

Hermione smiled to herself. She would be done with plenty of time to spare.

* * *

><p>Hermione was working on homework in the library as she eagerly waited for two o'clock to arrive. She could hardly wait to see Tom again. Although she had wanted to master the disillusionment charm, she also wanted to complete her assignments so she wasn't rushing back and forth between the library and the Come and Go Room for books to complete her homework.<p>

The Charms assignment had been incredibly easy. She had already finished her Astronomy homework and fungi diagram for Professor Sprout earlier in the week. The assignment for Transfiguration had been to master transfiguring a rock into a leaf, which Hermione had accomplished during the class period. Having advanced her magic so much since September, the task had been quite simple for the brilliant witch.

She had been putting the finishing touches on her Potions essay when she realized that the rest of the students in the library were getting ready to leave for lunch. Since she hadn't eaten much at breakfast, Hermione decided to pack up her supplies and head to the Great Hall.

Fortunately, the noise in the Great Hall had died down considerably since breakfast. Hermione found an empty spot at the end of the table, a few seats down from where Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter were sitting. Hermione did not miss the confused look that Neville directed at her. They usually sat together during meals.

Hermione could tell that Harry, Ron, and Neville had developed a bond in the aftermath of last night's events, a bond that she was neither a part of nor desirous of joining. She liked to think that she was happy that Neville had managed to make friends, even if it was with people she didn't particularly like. She had always felt sorry for Neville because he was clumsy, a bit slow, and an easy target for bullies. She had taken up a big sister role to protect Neville from the Slytherins and other Hogwarts students, but fortunately an association with Harry and Ron had seemingly put an end to most of the taunts. However, even Hermione knew that she was lying to herself for believing she was happy about the turn of events. Although it was completely selfish of her to think in such a manner, Hermione could not help but feel betrayed that the only other outcast in their year had been able to find friends. Now she truly was the only friendless one.

Hermione withdrew _A Practical Guide to Invisibility, Vanishing, and Disillusionment_, immediately immersing herself in the text. She didn't need other people when she had her books.

Lunch had never before tasted as bland as it did that day.

* * *

><p>Hermione did not return to the library, but instead went to Gryffindor Tower after lunch. Since there were quite a few students mulling around the common room when she arrived, she decided to go up to the dorms.<p>

The dorm she shared with the other first year girls was fortunately empty. Hermione had hoped it would be. The other girls were likely outside enjoying the weather since the afternoon was proving to be considerably warmer than the earlier half of the day. There would not be many warm days left in the year.

The reason Hermione had wanted to be alone was because she believed that she had made a breakthrough in her research of human disillusionment.

Dropping her book bag on her four-poster bed, Hermione held her wand firmly in her hand.

With her full focus directed at the task at hand, Hermione said the words and waved her wand accordingly before pointing the wand at herself.

She was overcome by an incredibly odd sensation. It felt as if she had broken an egg over the top of her head and the contents of the egg were slowly trickling down her body. Hermione glanced down as her arms disappeared. The spell gradually spread to the lower half of her body, finally ending with her feet.

Hermione flexed her fingers. Although she could not see them, she could feel her fingers curl and uncurl. To be able to feel but not see the actual movement was a very unnerving sensation.

Hermione frowned. If anyone had been present, they would not have seen the expression. Hermione thought the spell had taken far too long to go into effect. Surely if she was in dire need of concealing herself, the few seconds it had taken for the spell to kick into effect could have cost her greatly.

She reversed the spell and tried again.

This time, knowing what to expect and feeling a bit more practiced than her first attempt, Hermione watched as the process occurred much quicker this time.

She thought it was an improvement, but she would have preferred the charm to cover her instantly. With a quick glance at the muggle clock she kept on the nightstand next to her bed, Hermione realized that she had just over two hours until Tom finished with classes for the day. Hopefully it would grant her enough time to alter the spell to her liking.

* * *

><p>Hermione slipped past the Fat Lady portrait. She was still concealed by the disillusionment charm she had cast before leaving her dorm. The Fat Lady seemed surprised when nobody walked passed her, but likely assumed that someone on the inside had rethought their decision to leave.<p>

She reached the stretch of wall across from the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy and performed the necessary motions to gain access to the room.

_I wish to see Tom Riddle_.

However, when the door finally did appear and Hermione stepped inside the familiar room, she was disappointed to see that Tom Riddle was nowhere to be found.

She was positive that when she had left the dorm room, the time had been two o'clock.

Fortunately, Hermione did not have the time to fret about her missing companion because he showed up a moment later. He entered the room with a foul expression and stomped past her toward his chair.

Hermione joined him a moment later, taking her seat in the chair across from him.

Tom did not seem willing to chat about why he was in such a bad mood. He did not even bother to acknowledge her presence. He tore out a book from his bag and glared angrily at the cover.

"No 'hello, Hermione?' I'm hurt!" Hermione teased the sullen-faced boy.

Tom jumped in surprise, appearing quite taken aback by her words. It did not take long for Hermione to realize why. She had forgotten to remove the disillusionment charm.

She remedied her mistake, revealing herself to the Slytherin boy.

"How did you do that?" Tom asked, surprise and amazement evident from his facial expression and tone.

Hermione showed him exactly how she did it by casting the spell on Tom. He looked surprised when her wand made contact with his skin and his body appeared to vanish. Even the book in his lap had been affected by the spell.

"I just figured out how to do it myself. At first it took a few seconds for the spell to take effect, but I discovered tapping the wand against the skin for a brief second makes the spell work faster."

She reversed the disillusionment charm she had placed on Tom. He reappeared before her.

"I wish you existed in my time," Tom said. "I would have liked to learn this spell with you."

"Well, why don't we just teach each other spells that we know?" Hermione suggested. "Or we can learn spells together. I think that would be a lot of fun, and probably a lot easier than learning them by myself."

Tom seemed to like that idea.

Hermione positively beamed at her very thoughtful idea. "Do you want me to teach you the disillusionment charm? I wanted to learn it in case we missed curfew. The last thing I think either of us wants is a detention!"

"I agree. I just barely made it back to the common room before curfew went into effect," Tom stated. He was glad that Hermione had managed to learn the charm. It would certainly be useful to know.

Hermione eagerly launched into lecture mode, "The first thing you want to do…"

* * *

><p>The two first years were well matched. While Hermione proved herself to be an amazing teacher, Tom proved himself to be a remarkably quick learner.<p>

Tom smiled as he successful cast the disillusionment charm on Hermione. She had disappeared from sight, but he could guess that she was smiling right back at him.

He had been surprised when he had first entered the room and the girl had made her presence known from under the guise of the charm. Tom had found it very odd that he had completely forgotten his anger from earlier. Usually he would dwell over things for several days before the anger dissipated. Hermione's presence had managed to cure him of his unpleasant thoughts in a matter of seconds.

The reason he had been so angry was because Professor Dumbledore – however Hogwarts was still standing with him as Headmaster, Tom would never know – had, as usual, decided to treat Tom as though he were invisible during Transfiguration.

While the rest of his classmates had been much slower at transfiguring a rock into a leaf, Tom had managed to do so within the first five minutes. Professor Dumbledore had even looked directly at him without a single hint of acknowledgement.

Unlike Hermione's suggestion of house bias, Tom knew the elderly wizard had had it out for him since the first of September. He had Transfiguration with Gryffindor and Professor Dumbledore was perfectly fine with not only subtracting points from Gryffindor, but also giving points to Slytherin – as long as the one gaining the points was not Tom Riddle.

Tom scowled at the thought as he reversed the charm he had placed on Hermione. She reappeared before him with a concerned expression. She immediately inquired as to what was the matter.

Tom explained what his issue was with Professor Dumbledore, and he was surprised by the understanding look he received.

"I told you about Professor Snape yesterday. I had him for Potions today with the Slytherins. He wouldn't call on me to answer the properties of the Dreamless Sleep Potion even though I was the only one who knew the answer."

"Nobody knew the answer to such an easy question? I really pity the future of the wizarding world," Tom stated with a smirk.

Hermione laughed at his comment. "Oh, he let one of the idiots in his house answer the bit regarding how it gives the user a dreamless sleep. It was the part about it being used to speed up the healing process that nobody could answer."

"Well, this Professor Snape character doesn't sound as bad as Dumbledore," Tom stated with a dark expression. He purposely refused to include the wizard's title. "At least he doesn't single you out. He treats all Gryffindors equally as unfairly as he treats you. Dumbledore only acts differently toward me."

Hermione seemed to ponder his words. "Why do you think Dumbledore does that?"

Tom knew exactly why as he bitterly answered, "He seems to think something isn't quite right about me."

"You are the only person I know my age – or really in general – who I actually understand. If Professor Dumbledore dislikes you, I doubt he would like me very much," Hermione said. Tom liked that about her, though. She was very much like how he was and was therefore easy to understand.

"I think he's convinced that I'm going to become the next dark wizard or something," Tom said.

Hermione shook her head before seemingly pondering something. "I highly doubt it will do any harm to tell you that the next dark wizard after Grindelward was someone who went by the name of Voldemort. He was defeated about eleven years ago. I'm pretty sure Dumbledore's worries about you are not going to amount to anything."

Tom shrugged. "Who knows? Perhaps I should start going by the name Voldemort and show Dumbledore exactly what he expects to see."

"I don't think that's very funny," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "I don't think you're a bad person, and I don't think you should let Dumbledore's opinion of you affect you in any way. I've read about dark wizards. They kill a lot of innocent people because they think they're right about something that is completely wrong."

Tom thought what Hermione had said about him was rather nice. Usually other people didn't have a high opinion of him. He was typically believed to be the bad kid, the troubled child. Tom did not see why Dumbledore was so set on the idea that Tom would become the next dark wizard (although Hermione had assured him otherwise). Tom was sure that the instance where Dumbledore had caught Tom for stealing from the other orphans was why he was so set against him. But Tom had (begrudgingly) returned all of the items to the children. At Hogwarts, he had done his best to keep his nose clean by performing well in classes and generally being the model student. However, despite his best efforts, Dumbledore continued to uphold the belief that Tom was a complete fraud.

"What was Voldemort's cause?" Tom inquired curiously. He knew what Grindelwald believed in because of the recent reports that had been showing up in the _Prophet_, but this new dark wizard was completely unknown to him.

"From what I've read, a lot of what he did was concerned with getting rid of muggle-born wizards and witches. But I think he was a pure-blooded bigot who just wanted power. That's usually the goal ambitious people possess," Hermione stated. "I honestly don't think he was too against killing pure-bloods either."

"I really can't see why pure-bloods are so obsessed with blood purity," Tom mused aloud.

"They think it makes them superior," Hermione said. "But it doesn't really help their cause when a muggle-born witch beats them in every subject."

"That doesn't seem to deter my housemates from trying to insult me every chance they get," Tom said with a snide tone. "I get the top marks in all of my classes, but they always call me 'son of a muggle' or 'mudblood.'"

"Things are a lot better nowadays in terms of tolerance," Hermione explained. "People don't really like Slytherins because they're so behind the times on such matters. But it's not considered acceptable to toss around terms like mudblood anymore."

"Sounds like a better place," Tom said.

"I think it is," Hermione said. "But I think it'd be much better if you lived in my time period. You'd probably like it, even if Dumbledore is headmaster."

"I don't mind this," Tom said, gesturing around the room. "I'm glad to have met you. I think you're the only person I've met at this school worth knowing, even if you do live fifty years in the future."

"I completely agree," Hermione said with a soft smile. She paused for a moment, considering something. "Do you think we could consider each other friends?"

Tom pondered the term. He found the word incredibly foreign. Never in his life had he ever had a friend before, but the orphanage had not been a place for developing friendships; it was a place of survival. Tom had not really known what to expect when he reached Hogwarts, but his housemates had quickly shown him the ropes when they called him a mudblood because he did not know who his parents were. To know that Hermione was quite like him in more ways made Tom feel strange, but in a good way.

"I think so," Tom said. "I think I'd like that very much, actually."

"I'm glad! Now would you _please_ tell me about the book you mentioned yesterday?"

Tom grinned at the bushy-haired girl who was looking at him with a silent, desperate plea in her eyes.

If this was what friendship was, he could certainly get used to having one with Hermione Granger.

* * *

><p>AN: I've always felt that Hermione had the potential to be great without the boys and I hope that I will be able to bring out this aspect over the course of the story. _HereToRead84_ brought up the question I suppose other people might ask/wonder about: will there be a time skip? The answer is very unlikely, or at least not one that would cover a significant amount of time.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I look forward to your reviews.


	6. Voldemort

The book, Tom informed her, was actually the diary of a former Hogwarts resident who went by the initials _S.S_. Tom confessed that he was not aware of the identity of the author beyond the listed initials, but he made it quite clear that he was not at all concerned about finding out.

"I don't see why it matters," Tom said. "Judging from the condition of the diary, the author has been deceased for at least a few centuries."

"It would still be nice to know who they were," Hermione mused.

Tom shrugged offhandedly. "Why? They're dead."

"Don't you want to be remembered even after you're no longer around? That's all people really can achieve in life, making a name for themselves," Hermione stated matter-of-factly. "It's the only way people actually get to live forever."

Tom scoffed. Of course the idea of having his name known was appealing, but it took a backseat to his current predicament of finding out how to live forever. Although the witch in front of him believed immortality was only capable to such an insignificant degree, he was positive that he would be able to find a way to truly live forever.

"You don't agree?" Hermione asked.

"No," Tom replied, wondering why he had scoffed in the first place. He was never so expressive around other people. He deduced that it was due to how comfortable he felt around Hermione. Tom couldn't bring himself to admit that it was necessarily a bad thing.

"Well, you could be right. It was only a few months ago that we learned about magic. I doubt it is such a large stretch to think that a person could live forever," Hermione stated.

Tom liked that she could think exactly along the same lines as him.

Hermione twirled her wand in her hands as she pondered what had been said. "But if there was a way to live forever, why hasn't anyone mentioned it?"

"If it has been discovered, it probably isn't passed around so casually," Tom said. "And if it hasn't been discovered yet, that doesn't mean it never will be." If the method of living forever had yet to be discovered, Tom was ready to dedicate the rest of his life to discovering it.

"I suppose that makes sense," Hermione said, looking at Tom curiously. "Do you happen to want to live forever?"

Tom was rather surprised she had asked. He hadn't thought he had made it so obvious, but he supposed the witch was rather logical and could have concluded it easily. However, rather than confirm her suspicions, Tom countered, "Do you?"

"I don't know. Maybe," Hermione said, gazing blankly at a spot on his uniform. Tom looked down, trying to see if she was staring at something of particular interest, but found nothing. Of course Tom would never know it, but Hermione had been staring at how perfect his uniform looked. None of the students in her year looked as pristine as he did. "I honestly haven't given it much thought. I think I'd get pretty lonely if I lived forever."

Tom frowned. "Would you be lonely if the both of us were immortal?"

Hermione pondered the question for a moment before replying, "I'm sure that wouldn't be as bad, but I'd miss my parents a great deal."

Tom hadn't met her parents, but he thought if they were _her _parents, they couldn't be so bad. "And if your parents were immortal?"

"Then I'm sure I'd be very happy, having you and my parents with me forever."

Tom reasoned that when – not _if_, because _if_ simply wasn't acceptable – he did discover the secret of immortality, he would make sure to share the secret with Hermione and her parents. Tom was beginning to feel that living forever would be rather lonely if Hermione wasn't around to share it with him.

"It does seem we've gotten a bit off topic. I want to hear more about this diary," Hermione stated, placing the conversation back on track. "I am sure S.S won't mind us not finding out about their real identity. After all, had they wanted to be known, they would have included their real name."

Tom let a smirk grace his lips at her comment before recounting all that he had read.

* * *

><p>The diary, Hermione learned, contained a plethora of knowledge regarding the castle. Not only had the author known about the Come and Go Room, they had also known about other secret locations in the castle. One of the mentioned rooms was a chamber with a mythical beast of legend slumbering inside. Hermione knew Tom was determined to find out more about the chamber by the way he had talked so passionately about the subject. He even mentioned that he had tried to research more about the chamber, but had come up empty-handed so far.<p>

On top of a vast understanding of the castle's architecture, the author had also mentioned several magical artifacts hidden away within the confines of the castle. One of the more peculiar-sounding artifacts had been a mirror that could reveal a person's desires. Hermione wondered if any of the artifacts mentioned by the author were still around. She was sure Tom wondered the same too.

By the time Tom finished listing off everything he had read in the diary, Hermione realized how much time had passed. Dinner would be starting soon, and although she wanted to stay with Tom and talk about everything and anything all through the night, she knew it would be in their best interest to eat dinner first.

"Or I could run down to the kitchens and get us some food," Tom suggested.

"I doubt you'd be able to carry everything the house-elves would give you," Hermione stated with a giggle. "They give you enough for a small feast."

"I suppose that wouldn't be too inconspicuous," Tom admitted with a grin as he imagined levitating several platters of food from the kitchens to the seventh floor.

"Not at all," Hermione agreed. "Anyway, we've better hurry. Shall we meet back in an hour? I want to drop by the library after dinner."

Tom shrugged his shoulders, "I suppose. I should probably drop by the library as well. I need to pick up a textbook for an Astronomy assignment due tomorrow."

Hermione frowned before realizing something. "I completely forgot. Tomorrow for you isn't a Saturday, is it?"

Tom looked at her curiously, obviously not having thought of what she was implying before then. "No, tomorrow is a Wednesday."

"That is unfortunate," Hermione stated sadly. "I was looking forward to spending more time with you during the weekend. I guess I will get a few extra books from the library to read while I wait for you to finish class."

"Well, if you stay in here all day tomorrow, I will drop by in between classes. I've got Herbology and Charms in the morning, which I'll be finished with by eleven. Then I have Astronomy at midnight. We'll have plenty of time."

"Still," Hermione said wistfully, "it would have been nice to have weekends off together."

Tom whole-heartedly agreed with the Gryffindor girl.

On that depressing note, the two first years departed with the promise to return in an hour.

* * *

><p>Hermione arrived at the Great Hall a few minutes early. Dinner had yet to be served, but the house tables were gradually filling up with noisy students. The troll incident was hardly mentioned as students discussed their weekend plans and the upcoming Quidditch season.<p>

A few of the older students were chatting about the upcoming visit to Hogsmeade, the neighboring wizarding village, the following day. Only third years and up would be able to go, but several of the younger students were already submitting requests to their upperclassmen for certain goods – a very lucrative trade, especially since the upperclassmen were able to mark up the prices for a profit. Fred and George Weasley had spent the entire week advertising their service to do so. It was not surprising to see that several first and second year Gryffindors were loitering around where the twins sat with last minute requests for Hogsmeade products.

Although _A Practical Guide to Invisibility, Vanishing, and Disillusionment_ was still tucked away in her bag, Hermione did not bother to take it out and start reading as she was known to do during mealtimes. She had already learned everything in the text that would be of use to her. She was eager to return it to the library in exchange for a new set of books to read over the course of the weekend.

"Hi," Neville greeted as he slipped into the seat next to her. Hermione glanced up to see Harry and Ron staring at the table, looking quite uncomfortable. A few seconds later, both joined the other boy in taking their seats at the end of the table where Hermione was sitting. Ron had claimed the seat next to Neville, placing Neville between Hermione and the redhead. Harry had chosen the seat across from the three of them.

"Hello," Hermione replied, suddenly wishing she had pulled out the book in order to avoid the impending awkward conversation even though she knew that having a book out wouldn't have stopped Neville and the other boys from sitting with her.

Thankfully, the dinner spread suddenly appeared on the table. Hermione and the boys gathered food onto their plates in uncomfortable silence. Unfortunately, the silence didn't last long enough for Hermione's liking.

"How did you end up doing on the Dreamless Sleep Potion?" Neville inquired as he reached for the bread basket. "You were the first one to finish the potion and I didn't get to ask you at lunch."

"I'm sure I did alright. Brewing potions is just a matter of following simple instructions," Hermione stated, thinking the question was rather silly. Her potions were always perfect; there was no reason for Neville to assume otherwise. She couldn't help but hear Ron's derisive snort, which unsurprisingly matched his pig-like appetite if the amount of food accumulating on his plate was anything to go by. Hermione ignored him for Neville's sake.

"You missed an entire group of Slytherins fainting during class. Pansy had added a bit too many sopophorous beans to her potion and the fumes knocked about five Slytherins out," Neville said with a smile as he recalled the day's events. He much preferred it when someone else was responsible for things going wrong.

"Snape was pretty livid, but of course he would never consider subtracting points from his house," Harry said, surprising Hermione. She could tell that Harry had made the comment in an effort to lighten the mood. After speaking, he had stared into his plate of food with a look of deep concentration, as though wondering whether his words had been unwarranted or foolish. At least he seemed willing to put the events from the other day behind him. As a peace-offering, Hermione graced the bespectacled boy with a quick smile.

Her smile dropped as she glanced at Ron, who was stuffing his face with mashed potatoes and ignoring the conversation in favor of his dinner. She doubted a friendship with Neville and Harry would work if Ron wasn't included, but Hermione did not want to associate with the redhead. From the way he was acting, the feeling was undoubtedly mutual.

"Well, at least he didn't subtract any points from Gryffindor today," Neville said.

"Yes, but he doesn't give us any points either. And he's always picking on me," Harry said, a frown marring his features.

Neville and Harry continued chatting as Hermione ate her dinner in silence. The only time she did talk was in response to a question directed at her, most always from Neville. Although she knew Neville was trying to include her in his new group of friends, his efforts were truly being wasted. She was fine being left out of their group, especially now that she had Tom Riddle to spend her time with.

Ron was already halfway through his second helping when Hermione dismissed herself.

"I need to return a book to the library," Hermione said, picking up her book bag and saying goodbye. Harry and Neville returned her farewell.

As she walked away, she could hear Ron exclaim, "I thought she would never leave!"

* * *

><p><em>November 1, 1938<em>

"Oh, look. The mudblood has decided to join us."

Tom Riddle resisted sneering at the boy who had made the remark as he took his seat at the end of the Slytherin table. Acknowledging his housemates' behavior would only further provoke them. Although Abraxas Malfoy was quite a few seats down from where Tom sat every meal, obviously alone, the blond had said the words loud enough for Tom to hear them.

Several of the surrounding Slytherin first years laughed. Henrietta Greengrass' shrieking laughter caused Tom's head to ache, as it had since the first time he had heard it. He practiced nonverbal spells every now and then, albeit unsuccessfully, with the hope that he would be able to silence her without being caught doing so.

Tom had stopped by the library before going to dinner and picked up the necessary textbook for his Astronomy assignment. He had decided to do so in order to give the corridors time to clear out because he did not want other students following him down to the kitchens. Unfortunately, when he had been about to pass the Great Hall on his way down to where Hermione had said the kitchens were located, Dumbledore had appeared out of nowhere. Tom thought the demented old fool truly had nothing better to do than make his life miserable.

Tom was no idiot. He complacently entered the Great Hall, followed by Dumbledore's watchful gaze.

So now he was stuck eating dinner with a table full of people who hated his very existence.

The feeling was mutual on both sides.

"It never ceases to amaze me how they let such filth into this house. As if it wasn't bad enough that we already have to tolerate them being at this school," Elliot Rosier stated, again just loud enough for Tom to hear.

"Their mere existence is the worst part," Malfoy replied haughtily.

Twins Nicholas and Natalia Lestrange snickered and stared pointedly in Tom's direction before whispering conspiratorially to each other.

Tom did not have to wonder what they were whispering about for very long because, less than a minute later, his pumpkin juice exploded on him. The juice soaked into his uniform and dripped from his hair.

Tom sneered in the twins' direction, where Nicholas Lestrange was holding his wand and laughing hysterically along with his sister and their housemates. Tom then glanced at the High Table, where Dumbledore was watching the scene with an unreadable expression. When he saw that Tom was looking, he didn't even bother to turn away.

To say Tom was angry was an understatement. He was livid. His cheeks were hot with rage. He wanted to curse the old wizard even more than he wanted to curse his housemates. As a professor, Dumbledore should have interfered, but he didn't. He probably thought Tom got what he deserved, being the next dark wizard and all that – of course, this was completely false. Hermione had already informed him the next dark wizard was some guy named Voldemort who got himself killed.

Voldemort sounded like a stupid guy to Tom. First, his name was stupid. Then he stupidly got himself killed. Tom thought a smart wizard – dark or not – did not go about getting himself killed. However, if Dumbledore wanted a dark wizard, Tom would be happy to oblige. And his first goal as dark wizard would be to kill Dumbledore.

Tom withdrew his notebook from his book bag as well as his quill and ink bottle. Ignoring the fact that he was drenched in pumpkin juice, Tom flipped to the inside cover of the notebook and stared furiously at the neat cursive that read _Property of Tom Marvolo Riddle_.

Scratching out his name, Tom replaced it with _Voldemort_.

He'd show them, Tom thought as he stared angrily at the High Table where Dumbledore had turned away and was engaged in conversation with the Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor, Professor Merrythought.

"Of course the mudblood knows it's pointless to clean up. Even if he does, he's _still_ dirty."

He'd show them all.

Tom packed up his belongings and left the table, ignoring the laughter of his housemates, which seemed to follow him out of the Great Hall.

* * *

><p>He was too angry to even remember the cleaning charm <em>Scourgify<em> until he reached the stretch of wall associated with the Room of Requirement. When he did remember it, the charm only worked on his robes. His hair had already dried and smelled strongly of pumpkin juice.

He performed the necessary three laps required to activate the room's entrance.

"Hello," Hermione greeted as Tom entered the room and stormed toward his chair.

"I don't want to talk about it," Tom said. Hermione was no idiot. She knew he was feeling angry.

"Okay," Hermione conceded. She glanced down at the book she had been reading when he entered. Tom didn't even bother to look at the cover as he rummaged through his book bag. "But if you do want to talk about it, I'm here to listen."

Tom did not reply as he pulled out a roll of parchment and the textbook he had borrowed from the library for his Astronomy homework.

The two sat in silence for the next several hours while Tom wrote his essay and Hermione read her book. The silence was neither uncomfortable nor awkward.

But when they did part ways for the night – after all, Tom had to be up early the next day for class – he did break the silence.

"Thank you."

Hermione smiled knowingly over her shoulder as she left the room.

* * *

><p>AN: I've been busy lately with the semester winding down and all that. I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter and I look forward to reading your feedback.


	7. Duel

The chill of November descended, bringing with it an ever-present layer of frost, which blanketed the grounds of Hogwarts. The castle's corridors became unbearably cold for many of the first and second years who had yet to learn any heating spells. Puffs of breath from shivering youngsters were visible early in the morning as the rosy-cheeked students maintained a brisk walk from location to location in an effort to keep warm.

As the weeks passed, Tom and Hermione had fallen into a close companionship. They spent all of their free time together in the Room of Requirement, doing homework, studying, reading, and practicing spells. While Tom and Hermione both excelled at their classes, the two first years possessed strengths and weaknesses when it came to spells. Hermione's strengths consisted of Charms and Transfiguration, and Tom was superb at Defence Against the Dark Arts. Working together, their knowledge expanded at an astounding rate. Any spell they sought to master, they would master; oftentimes, they would even take it a step further by improving on the spells themselves. Hermione was especially clever when it came to making spells work faster, while Tom was skilled at improving the power behind the spell. They worked off each other's strengths to overcome their own weaknesses.

On November 22, the day before the 1991 Quidditch match of Gryffindor versus Slytherin, Tom and Hermione had agreed on dueling practice for that day's session. Hermione, having only had a barely tolerable session of Double Potions with the Slytherins that day, had spent the remainder of her time in the library. She finished homework assignments and gathered research books to expand her arsenal of spells until Tom ended class at two o'clock.

When she had entered the room shortly after two o'clock, she was surprised to see how accommodating the magical room had been in addressing their needs. The room had transformed into a significantly larger space with ample room to move around. It was devoid of furniture, but there were two emerald-green pillows located in the center. Tom was resting on one, patiently waiting for Hermione to take the one opposite of him.

"How was class?" Hermione inquired as she sat on the pillow.

"Bad, but I'm sure you already knew that. And yours?"

"Tolerable."

"I think I'd take greasy Snape over the senile fool any day," Tom commented.

"That's only because Professor Snape likes Slytherins," Hermione countered.

"Dumbledore likes everyone but me."

It was roughly the same conversation they had every week on Friday. The pleasantries were unneeded, but welcomed. Neither Hermione nor Tom had anyone else to discuss them with anyway, so they enjoyed the simplicity of the conversation despite their never-changing responses.

"Shall we get started?" Hermione inquired, withdrawing her wand from her book bag and pushing it off to the side.

Tom nodded his head and stood up from his pillow. He extended his hand to the bushy-haired girl, which she accepted with a quick smile. Tom liked her smile. Her two slightly larger front teeth were quite endearing. He also liked the feeling of her hand in his, and he missed the contact as she slipped her hand from his and smoothed out her skirt.

Although the first years' curriculum hadn't provided a great deal of spells that would be useful in a duel, Tom and Hermione had diligently practiced throughout the late nights. Each possessed an arsenal of spells. In anticipation of the duel, which they had decided on earlier in the week, they had both studied independently to expand their knowledge. However, although they had learned different spells, they promised they would impart all they had learned after their practice duel.

"The first one to incapacitate their opponent wins," Hermione needlessly stated. The Slytherin nodded at her as they both took a few steps away to put some room in between them. When they had placed enough distance between them, Tom graced her with a mock bow and a smirk, which Hermione returned by tilting her head in obvious amusement.

"On three," Tom stated.

"One," Hermione said with a smile.

"Two," Tom counted, gripping his wand in anticipation.

In the next second, the duel commenced.

"_Stupefy_!" Hermione shouted as a scarlet beam burst from the end of her wand. Hermione had obviously altered the spell to move even faster than it originally allowed.

Unable to dodge the swift moving stunner, Tom quickly erected a shield charm. The spell crashed into the barrier and dissipated with an angry hiss. By the time his barrier faded, Tom saw that Hermione had levitated one of the emerald-green pillows in the air.

"_Oppugno_!"

The pillow went hurtling toward Tom's face.

"_Reducto_."

The pillow burst in midair, raining feathers down in front of Tom and obscuring his vision. Hermione had obviously counted on this. She sent a disarming spell his way. Her action was masked by the shower of white feathers, and Tom was effectively caught off guard by the distraction.

The wand flew from his hand, concluding the duel with Hermione as the victor.

"_Accio _wand," Hermione said before his wand could land on the floor, instead ending up in her hand. She walked over to him, extending the wand to him. He took it gratefully, reveling in the feeling of having it back in his possession. When he had been disarmed, it had felt like he had lost a limb.

"You're quite creative," Tom said, unable to mask the bitterness in his tone at his loss. He watched as she cast the repairing charm on the pillow he had destroyed during the duel.

Hermione smiled wryly at him as she replied, "Well, it's either that or end up being blown to bits like the pillow."

"I wouldn't do that to you," Tom countered, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I know, I know," Hermione teased in a friendly tone. "Would you like to have another go?"

Tom did want to have another go, and he told her so. He wanted to redeem himself. He hated the feeling associated with losing – especially losing to a girl. Although Tom was well aware that Hermione was a force to be reckoned with, he couldn't help but think it was strangely unsettling to know a girl his age held so much power.

* * *

><p>They continued on for several more rounds. Hermione had won their second duel, but Tom won their third and forth. They tied on the fifth.<p>

Hermione hissed in pain as she held her wand arm, which had been cut by Tom's slicing hex at the same moment he had ended up paralyzed by her _Petrificus Totalus_. She had dropped her wand due to the surprising amount of pain, thereby ending the match as both of them had been without a wand and therefore unable to continue.

Hermione's eyes welled with tears as she crouched down and gingerly picked her wand off the floor. Blood was trickling out of the wound and trailing down her arm. She first removed the body-bind she had placed on Tom and then racked her mind for the proper spell required to heal the skin the slicing hex had effortlessly cut through.

Tom beat her to it, effectively sealing the nasty looking gash with a soft blue light that illuminated the tip of his wand.

"_Tergeo_," Hermione said, funneling the blood off of her skin and out of her clothes. She shot Tom a grateful look for his aid.

"I'm sorry," Tom apologized, gazing at the crimson drops that had ended up on the floor.

"Don't worry about it," Hermione said, waving her arm to show him it was alright. "We were both a little out of control during that round."

Tom remained silent as Hermione reached over and began smoothing out his hair, which had become disheveled during their latest match. Hermione had conjured a flock of yellow canaries out of thin air, which she directed to attack him. They had scratched at him with their sharp talons and picked at his skin with pointed beaks. He had returned the favor by summoning a snake, which Hermione had managed to blast across the room before it could strike.

"We still have some time before dinner. If you'd like, we can begin discussing some of the spells," Hermione suggested after she had finished tidying up her companion's appearance.

Tom immediately missed her gentle ministrations, but agreed with her suggestion. She really had come prepared for their dueling practice, and he was eager to learn about several of the spells she had surprised him with. From the way her eyes were practically shining with excitement, he could tell she felt exactly the same about several of the spells he had used.

* * *

><p>Hermione and Tom would trade-off on teaching spells. Hermione would teach Tom a spell she had learned, and then Tom would return the favor.<p>

Hermione had just finished teaching Tom _Avis_, which he thought was a rather impressive spell when paired up with _Oppugno_. He could still recall the birds scratching and pecking at his skin. Along with the stunt concerning the pillow during their first match, Tom was beginning to learn just how creative Hermione really was when it came to magic.

In exchange, Tom taught her _Serpensortia_.

"_Serpensortia,_" Hermione attempted. She managed to produce a rather basic garden snake, which looked quite pathetic compared to Tom's significantly larger and more ferocious looking cobra.

Tom was impressed when Hermione did not shy away from the serpents as others tended to, but merely regarded them as an academic would.

Hermione banished the garden snake and tried again. On her second attempt, she managed to produce an exact replica of Tom's cobra.

"How interesting," Hermione murmured to herself. Once again, she banished the cobra.

"_Strange human_,_" _Tom's conjured cobra hissed out as it examined the girl. Tom smirked at the snake, but did not reply.

"_Avis!_" Hermione called, conjuring a flock of doves.

Tom felt an eyebrow rise.

"Interesting, isn't it?" Hermione inquired as she watched the doves avoid becoming snacks for Tom's cobra.

Tom agreed. "How did you manage that?"

"You need to picture the birds in your head," Hermione explained. "When you cast _Avis_, I'm guessing you merely imagined the yellow canaries I had produced. When I was casting _Serpensortia_, I thought of a garden snake. The second time, I copied your example. I suppose you could really conjure just about anything like this."

Tom amused himself with the thought. "_Avis_."

Several sleek, black crows appeared, providing a dark contrast against the brilliant white purity of the doves.

"_Next time,"_ the cobra hissed, "_conjure mice._"

Tom laughed at the snake, causing Hermione to look at him strangely for a moment.

"The snake wanted me to conjure mice," Tom explained.

"You can understand what it is saying?" Hermione asked, wondering if _saying_ was the correct word.

"Yes," Tom replied. "I've always been able to understand what snakes say."

"That's amazing!" Hermione exclaimed, glancing at the cobra with newfound interest. "Can you talk to it? Can you understand other animals?"

"I can't understand other animals, but I can communicate with snakes," Tom explained.

"Could you talk to it?" Hermione requested, eagerly anticipating a demonstration.

"_Rodents are easy game. Birds are a challenge_," Tom hissed at the snake.

"_Sometimes, we snakes like easy game_."

Hermione was staring at him in amazement. "What did you say?"

Tom translated their brief exchange. Hermione immediately cast a concerned look at the birds. She banished both the doves and the crows before one ended up as dinner for the cobra.

The snake hissed at her menacingly.

"I don't think I should translate that," Tom said with a frown. He banished the snake, not particularly appreciating the hissed threat it had directed at the Gryffindor girl.

"I think you're amazing," Hermione said after a moment of silence. She was glancing at him with wide, brown eyes.

Hermione was the first – and likely the only – person to have ever learned of Tom's secret ability. He was glad to see that she wasn't repulsed by his actions. He honestly hadn't expected her to be, but he was still pleasantly surprised to discover that she was still comfortable around him.

"You didn't have to learn how to talk to snakes? You've just always been able to?" Hermione inquired.

Tom nodded his head in confirmation.

"I wonder if it's possible to learn the language," she pondered aloud.

Tom hissed at her in the language of the snakes, "_I doubt it_."

Hermione attempted to mimic him, making a hissing sound, but the language was simply lacking in her attempt.

"It just sounds like hissing when you do it," Tom explained.

Hermione nodded, accepting the fact that it was likely impossible to learn the language of the snakes. "I suppose your ability is similar to magic. You either have it or you don't, and if you don't, you can't learn it. As a matter of fact, it might very well be genetic as well."

Tom gazed at her, realizing what she had just told him.

"You think one of my parents might have been able to talk to snakes?"

"Perhaps. Have you asked them?"

Tom had never told Hermione about his status as an orphan who knew nothing about his parents. He had gleaned from their conversations that she was a muggle-born, and he assumed that she thought the same of him. However, they had never actually conversed about this background before.

"I never knew my parents," Tom stated.

Hermione stared at him, remaining silent. He was glad that she didn't give him the usual _I'm sorry_ people tended to use when they heard of difficult circumstances.

"I've been raised in an orphanage my entire life," Tom explained. "The only thing I know about my parents is that my mother died after giving birth to me in the orphanage. She managed to name me – Tom for my father, Marvolo for her father."

"Marvolo is a rather peculiar name for a Muggle," Hermione suggested.

Tom knew Hermione was implying that his father, Tom Riddle – whoever he was, had likely been a Muggle and therefore not the one he inherited the ability to speak to snakes from. She thought that his mother was the witch because her father had a peculiar name. Tom disagreed with her theory.

"If it was as you are suggesting, my mother wouldn't have died giving birth to me," Tom sneered out the last part. "She would have done magic to save herself. If one of my parents were magical, it surely would have been my father."

Hermione nodded her head understandingly. "Well, at least you have a head start. It's highly likely that the ability to talk to snakes is something passed on. It's not exactly a typical gift."

Tom shrugged his shoulders. "I haven't really invested much time into the matter, honestly. What good will come of it? Whoever's child I am, they surely didn't – and likely still don't – want me."

Hermione gazed at him with a frown.

Tom knew that Hermione did not offer meaningless gestures like _I'm sorry_ for something that wasn't her fault. When something bothered her, she turned to logic and action. She calculated and formulated, as she had done in cracking the mystery behind his heritage.

Her efforts, albeit considerate, were unnecessary. He didn't need his parents now that he had magic. Now that he had Hogwarts. Now that he had Hermione Granger.

"How about we try another round before dinner?" Hermione suggested, effectively switching the topic. If anything, she was perceptive. "We can test out what we've learned so far and break our current tie."

"On three," Tom stated.

* * *

><p>Hermione didn't let him win. Tom wouldn't have wanted her to, but it still didn't help the fact that he felt bitter that she had won the most matches – even if just by one round.<p>

As he bent to retrieve his wand, Tom realized he had much better things to occupy his time with than search for a father who did not want him.

Tom glanced at Hermione's toothy grin.

Much better things indeed.

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you for all your lovely feedback. I'd like to answer a question that popped up a lot regarding why Tom is treated so poorly by his housemates and why he isn't feared and respected. The answer is that I'm taking liberties with Tom's early years. In my version, he has no idea he's the heir of Slytherin (yet) and his housemates think he's a muggle-born (they'll undoubtedly regret it); however, it's only year one. Things have yet to develop completely and they need time to develop - and time means chapters! I hope I cleared up some concerns and questions.


	8. Rescue

The grapes were particularly good that morning, Hermione noted as she listened inattentively to the chatter buzzing around the Gryffindor table.

The twenty-third was proving to be just as cold as every other day in the month of November – not that it mattered much. Rain, snow, or sun: the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams would be facing off no matter what the weather was like. Fortunately, the sky was supposed to be clear throughout the day. If the bright sunlight pouring in through the windows of the Great Hall was any indication, the Quidditch teams would be expecting good – if not rather cold – weather for the first match of the season.

Hermione had never been into sports. She had read _Quidditch Through the Ages_, so she knew what to expect when she went to watch the match. She only planned to do so because Tom had class. Plus, as much as she did not want to admit it, she really was curious to see what a Quidditch match was really like. It wasn't exactly the type of sport one could watch on television. And besides, most everything magical she had encountered so far had proved interesting. Perhaps a magical sport would as well.

"Harry, you should eat something," Neville Longbottom commented a few seats down from where Hermione was sitting to his bespectacled friend. Ron Weasley grunted his agreement through a mouth full of food.

Neville had gradually given up on incorporating Hermione into his new group of friends. Ron was delighted over how the situation turned out. He was always shooting her haughty looks as though he was the victor in some event. Hermione believed his misconception of her actually caring made him seem even more idiotic than he really was – which was, as Hermione was quickly learning, quite idiotic.

Unlike his redheaded companion, Harry Potter was just indifferent. Regardless of how matters had turned out, he wouldn't have cared much either way. Hermione didn't hate Harry, but she didn't particularly feel inclined to make an effort to befriend him either despite Neville's perseverance earlier in the month.

"You've got to eat some breakfast," Neville urged the bespectacled boy, who wasn't looking too well.

"I don't want anything," Harry mumbled, looking sullenly at his empty plate. He did take a quick sip of his pumpkin juice, but immediately set it down as though he had just consumed bleach.

Hermione observed the black-haired boy. He looked nauseated, stressed, tired, and a variety of other unpleasant terms that were certainly not suitable for a Quidditch player the day of a match. She wouldn't be surprised if he fell off his broom as a result of his condition, fainting mid-flight due to his gradually worsening condition.

"Harry, you need your strength," sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan informed the Boy-Who-Lived in his Irish-lilt, reaching across the table to claim the ketchup. "Seekers are always the one who get clobbered by the other team."

Harry response was a sarcastic "Thanks", which Seamus seemed to ignore as he doused his sausages in ketchup.

Hermione frowned. Although she wasn't particularly close to Harry, she couldn't help but feel a tad bit sorry for him.

During the past few nights, as Hermione snuck into the Gryffindor common room under the guise of the disillusionment charm well after curfew, she had seen Harry, Ron, and Neville slumped over a table near the fireplace. Whenever she entered, they were always fast asleep on their homework, drooling on book pages and parchment. If they weren't asleep when she arrived, they were at least _almost_ asleep, and therefore did not notice when the portrait silently slid open and nobody appeared to enter.

She knew the course load was getting to Harry, especially since he was juggling several assignments in addition to nightly Quidditch practice leading up to the present day's match. There was a reason first years weren't supposed to be on the Quidditch teams, and Harry was the prime example. He simply had yet to adjust to the school curriculum. It didn't help that he had Ron Weasley as a best friend, and the redhead was even worse than Harry when it came to keeping up with assignments. Ron didn't even have Quidditch practice to use as an excuse; it was procrastination and laziness that kept him from finishing assignments on time. Harry's other friend, Neville, simply wasn't that good when it came to matters unrelated to Herbology. In the end, Harry did not have anyone to help him deal with his ever-growing burden of schoolwork.

However, this was not Hermione's problem and she wasn't about to go out of her way to make it so.

She watched Harry dismiss himself from the remainder of breakfast. He exchanged goodbyes with his friends before departing.

"Good luck, Harry!" Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown chanted in unison before turning to giggle between themselves.

Ron choked on a large mouthful of breakfast as he tried to get out his goodbye. A few seconds later, those surrounding him seemed to realize he was actually choking as his cheeks turned an alarming purple.

"_Anapneo_," Hermione murmured, pointing her wand in the redhead's direction.

The result was instantaneous as Ron's airway cleared. He said his goodbye to Harry and resumed eating, none-the-wiser that Hermione had just rescued his life.

* * *

><p>Just over an hour later, Hermione was seated amongst her fellow housemates in the top row of the Gryffindor section of the Quidditch stands. Most of the students were standing in anticipation of the match, which was set to begin shortly.<p>

The students did not have to wait long. The two Quidditch teams trickled onto the field, causing a roar of cheers to rise from the students in the stands. The loudest sections were Gryffindor and Slytherin, although Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were just as excited for the start of the Quidditch season. Hermione didn't cheer rambunctiously, but she did politely clap as the players' names were announced by her housemate and upperclassmen, Lee Jordan.

When Harry's name was called, the entire Gryffindor section seemed to positively roar in excitement. From where she was sitting, she couldn't tell what Harry's reaction was. He had been so out of it during breakfast; she wouldn't have been surprised to see he hadn't even heard the cheers directed his way.

Madam Hooch informed the players to mount their brooms. They obliged.

With a loud blast of the silver whistle that dangled from her neck, the game commenced.

Hermione did not rely too heavily on Lee Jordan's commentary, as he was always adding in humorous jibes, biased comments, and thinly-veiled insults directed at the Slytherins. However, he was helpful in giving a play-by-play of the players' actions, and his comments made it easier to follow the fast-paced game.

Not too long into the game, following a score by Gryffindor, Hermione watched as the Hogwarts Gamekeeper squeezed his way toward Ron and Neville. The two boys made room for Rubeus Hagrid, the half-giant who the boys, along with Harry, seemed to be friendly with.

Hagrid had a loud voice. Even over the cheers of the crowd, Hermione could hear his gruff-sounding words as he explained to Ron and Neville that he had been watching from his cabin, but had been unsatisfied with the distance. He wanted to watch the match up close.

"No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?" Hagrid asked.

Ron told him that the Snitch had yet to make its appearance. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

Hagrid nodded approvingly. "Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'."

Hermione watched as the half-giant raised his binoculars to his eyes, gazing at where Harry was gliding high over the game in search of the elusive golden ball.

The game continued on in the meantime. As the Chasers raced through the air trying to claim possession of the Quaffle and score points for their respective team, Hermione found herself growing bored of the game.

"—wait a moment – was that the Snitch?" Lee Jordan's inquiry caused a hushed murmur to run through the crowd.

It was the Snitch, and Harry had caught sight of it, if his downward dive after a golden blur was any indication. The Slytherin Seeker Terrence Higgs followed suit, trailing a noticeable distance behind Harry's superior speed.

However, the game's end remained elusive as Slytherin's Quidditch Captain Marcus Flint purposely blocked Harry from grabbing the broom. Harry went spinning off course, nearly falling off his broom in the process. Madam Hooch allowed Gryffindor to have a free shot at the goal posts, but the Snitch had disappeared in the aftermath.

Hermione could tell, even from such a great distance away, that Harry was quite shaken up by the events. She wondered how long until he cracked under the pressure.

The game resumed after Alicia Spinnet landed the penalty shot with ease.

Hermione kept her eye trained on Harry, feeling slightly worried that the boy was going to fall out of the air and crack his skull. The stadium didn't exactly have safety nets, but there were hundreds of spectators watching the match. Someone was bound to be on duty to prevent the players in the air from falling to their death.

She knew something was wrong the moment Harry's broom veered unexplainably across the sky. When it started rolling over and over, Hermione glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing. If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom..."

Apparently, Hagrid had noticed as well.

Hagrid's voice trailed off as he gazed at the youngest player in the air through his binoculars. As though through a chain reaction following Hagrid's comment, several students began to point and stare at the youngest player in the air.

Harry was doing some rather odd acrobatics in the sky. His broom was rolling over, jerking side to side. With a particularly violent jerk, Harry ended up dangling from his broom with only one hand grasping the wood.

Hagrid's voice was shaking as he explained to a worried Seamus that the broomstick was likely under the influence of Dark magic

Hermione was now standing, searching the stands for who might possibly be interfering. However, her vision was limited without the aid of binoculars. At least, from what she could see, the perpetrator was not a Gryffindor.

The Weasley twins were trying to help Harry onto their brooms, but his broom evaded them whenever they neared him.

One particular jerk of the broom finally did it, pushing Harry's grip to its limit. He was weak from the stress, nervousness, and the lack of sleep and energy. His body gave out, unable to hold onto the broom that seemed intent on dropping him to his death.

Neville covered his eyes as Harry plummeted rapidly toward the ground. His falling form was chased by several members of the Gryffindor team, but their efforts were in vain. They could not hope to match the speed of his descent.

A gasp of horror arose from the crowd as students found themselves unable to look away from the inevitable crash.

Lavender Brown emitted an ear-shattering scream before fainting in distress into Parvati Patil.

Time seemed to slow around Hermione as the boy plummeted further and further toward the ground_._

_Why isn't anyone trying to help him?_ She wanted to ask.

Harry's plummet ended mere feet away from the ground. The crowd was stunned by the turn of events, but nevertheless relieved that they did not have to witness the likely death of the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Blimey," Hagrid muttered, staring at the boy hovering in mid-air. "I wonder if Dumbledore had a han' in it."

Hermione gazed at where the staff was seated. Even without the use of binoculars, Hermione could make out the standing black-clad figure of Professor Snape with his wand out. It had been Professor Snape who saved Harry; not Dumbledore as Hagrid believed.

"Well that was certainly an interesting turn of events, folks! Don't think we've seen anything quite like it in the history of Hogwarts… at least, not in the few years I've been here," Lee Jordan said with a nervous chuckle. It seemed he had managed to reclaim his voice after the shock.

During the chaos, Terrence Higgs had managed to catch the Snitch.

* * *

><p>Hermione claimed a quick lunch at the Great Hall with the rest of her housemates, who were eagerly discussing the events of the day. Harry was sitting uncomfortably a few seats down from where Hermione sat alone at the end of the Gryffindor table. The Gryffindor Seeker was flanked by his two friends.<p>

"Potty can't ride a broom," the Slytherins would taunt as they purposely passed by the Gryffindor table.

The rumor mill was passing two different explanations for the event. The first, which the Slytherins had started and delighted in, was that Harry really couldn't ride a broom and had only received the position because of his celebrity status. The rest of the school did not believe in the rumor, and opted on the second explanation: that somebody had used Dark magic to control Harry's broom in an attempt to kill him. The second was by far the more exciting one to discuss.

Harry wasn't eating much. He looked even worse than he had during breakfast that morning. Then again, nearly dying could do that to a person.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," Neville said in an attempt to make Harry feel better. "Slytherins are a bunch of cheats. Nobody even acknowledges that they won the match."

Although Hermione doubted Harry was all that worried about losing the match as much as he was about almost losing his life, what Neville had said was true. Not a single student outside of the Slytherin house even uttered a word about Slytherin's ill-earned victory. And if they did, they said so while fixing a glare at the Slytherin table.

"At least Dumbledore was there to save you from becoming a pancake!" Seamus chortled, giving Harry a hearty pat on the back.

Although Hermione was well aware that Professor Snape had been the one to save Harry, the rest of the school was convinced that the Headmaster had been behind his rescue. She did not know why Professor Snape had insisted on saving him, or why he did not insist on taking credit for the rescue. Hermione assumed that perhaps he merely wanted to keep up his front. Rescuing the Boy-Who-Lived surely would have ruined his image as the conniving, greasy Potions Master that Harry Potter and the other Gryffindors had conjured.

Never in a million years would anyone guess that Professor Snape had saved Harry Potter. If Hermione was not sure of what she had seen, she would have never believed it either.

* * *

><p>Tom was already waiting for her in the Room of Requirement, which had reverted back to the cozy quarters of the small study Hermione was so accustomed with.<p>

"How was class?" Hermione inquired, sitting in her usual chair across from Tom.

"Fine," replied Tom. As long as Tom did not have Dumbledore at all during the day, his answer would be 'fine'. "How was the Quidditch match?"

"It wasn't at all what I expected," Hermione said, before launching into an explanation of all that had occurred.

"I somehow doubt attempted murder is the norm for school events," Tom commented dryly after she had finished recounting the details of the match.

"There's speculation that one of the Slytherins was behind it," Hermione stated. From the tone of her voice, Tom could tell she didn't actually believe in the rumor.

"Murdering a student during a game is very un-Slytherin-like behavior," Tom commented wryly. "A Slytherin would incapacitate a player _before_ a match."

Hermione agreed, muffling a laugh despite the gravity of the situation. "I rather doubt it was a student at all."

"You think it was one of the professors?"

Shrugging, she explained, "I don't _know_ if it was a professor, but I don't think the attack was because of Quidditch. The target was Harry Potter, and that's not at all random considering his past. He was a baby when he was attacked by Voldemort, but Voldemort ended up dying while Harry survived."

Tom stared at her with a curious expression. "How exactly did that happen? A baby managed to defeat a dark wizard?"

He was beginning to think Hermione was joking about Voldemort all together. However, she appeared to be completely serious when she talked about the matter.

"Nobody knows," Hermione stated. "Though I'm pretty sure had the method been known, someone would have tried to kill him. Voldemort had a large following, but they went into hiding, were rounded up and placed into Azkaban, or pretended they had never followed him to begin with after he was defeated."

"Defeated by a _baby_," Tom scoffed, wondering just how idiotic this Voldemort guy could have been. He had thought Voldemort dying had been a stupid move, but dying to a child? That was just downright embarrassing.

"That's why I think the attack on Harry Potter wasn't random. I think maybe one of the scorned followers of the deceased Voldemort decided to take a chance at killing Harry."

Tom thought her assumption was correct. "Why?"

"Revenge, perhaps," Hermione suggested. "Or maybe someone wants to prove their worth and become the next dark lord. Killing Harry Potter would certainly be the way to gain instant notoriety."

"Maybe you're looking a bit too far into it?" Tom suggested; however, he couldn't deny that Hermione was bringing up a really good point. Killing the person who defeated the previous dark wizard – even if the person was a _child _at the time – would result in quick fame.

"I hope so," Hermione said with a sigh. "But it's difficult to think otherwise with all of the odd things that have happened this year so far. First the troll and now the Quidditch match. Something just seems off."

"What do you think it all means?" Tom inquired.

"That perhaps my time isn't as peaceful as I thought it was."

* * *

><p>AN: A few lines of dialogue are taken from the "Quidditch" chapter of the first Harry Potter Book; they are originally penned by J.K Rowling, and I have no claim to them. And to those who are wondering: yes, I do plan to write the story across all seven years. I'm not going to go year one, year two - then have them in their sixth or seventh year. I feel a lot of events throughout the original series will be important for developing Tom & Hermione's relationship with one another, as well as determining the fate of the Wizarding World.


	9. December

November faded into December, bringing with it severely colder weather and a considerable amount of snow.

Following their first duel, Hermione and Tom had decided to make duels a weekly occurrence. Every week, they would engage in individual study. Seated in their respective chairs in the Room of Requirement, they would unsuccessfully attempt to sneak peeks at the other's text. As a result, they had broken into a habit of enchanting their book covers to display entertaining titles such as _Astrology: Finding Love in the Stars_, _Bird Watcher's Guide_, and _Sleeping Beauty_.

"_The Biography of Helga Hufflepuff_?" Hermione inquired, staring incredulously at the cover of the book Tom was reading.

"As if yours is any better," Tom replied, glancing at the the title of her book in amusement. "_The Ultimate Dessert Cookbook_."

They both flashed each other grins and resumed reading.

* * *

><p>Hermione glared up angrily from her position on the ground. Tom had yet to release the body-bind he had placed on her as he gloated in his victory.<p>

"And the first match goes to me," Tom claimed with a smirk.

When he did release her, she angrily accused, "You copycat!"

He had launched a pillow at her face, which she had blasted apart in a manner similar to Tom's during their first duel. Tom had then cast a body-bind spell on her while the rain of feathers obscured her view.

Tom shrugged his shoulders, never letting the smirk leave his face as he replied, "I learned from the best."

"Well, then," Hermione commented, mirroring his expression, "allow me to resume the lesson."

Tom lost the remainder of the matches that day.

* * *

><p>"I want to test something," Hermione commented one afternoon.<p>

Tom stared at her questioningly as she withdrew a leather-bound journal from her book bag. She extended the journal to him.

"What do you want to test?" Tom asked, weighing the journal in his hand.

"I was curious as to whether objects from one time could travel to the next," Hermione replied.

Tom's curiosity was sparked. The witch was always coming up with brilliant ideas. For not the first time, Tom thought to himself how fortunate he was to have met her. Complying with her theory, he stood up and made his way to the room's exit. When he glanced back to where Hermione remained seated, he could see a million different results playing out in her head.

Tom stepped through the door, knowing it had disappeared behind him as soon as he had exited the room.

The journal remained in his hand.

* * *

><p>"Are you staying at Hogwarts?"<p>

Hermione glanced up from the book she was reading. "No."

"Oh," Tom commented, not really knowing how to respond to her answer.

"I wish I could stay," Hermione admitted.

Tom absently shrugged his shoulders. "You'll probably have a better time with your parents."

Hermione stared at Tom. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat under her gaze.

"It's only for a few weeks," Hermione commented.

Tom did not reply.

* * *

><p>It was the last day before the term ended when Hermione entered the room. She carried a wrapped present with a <em>To: Tom, <em>_From: Hermione _label attached.

_"_What is that?" Tom inquired, staring at the shiny silver wrapping paper tied together by an emerald string.

"A present," Hermione explained, "for you."

"I didn't get you anything," Tom replied, but his eyes were still trained on the present.

"That doesn't matter," Hermione commented. Her tone carried the unspoken message that there was no room for argument. She extended the present to him.

"Can I open it now?" Tom asked. In all of his eleven years of life, he had never received a present before. He did not understand the protocol associated with such matters.

Hermione nodded her head eagerly. She was just as excited for him to open the present as he was.

Tom carefully untied the emerald green ribbon. He then meticulously removed the silver paper that concealed the gift. The task was painstakingly slow, but Tom wanted to savor each second of the experience.

It was the same journal from a few weeks ago, when he and Hermione had tested her theory of whether objects could travel through time.

"Thank you for the present. I really appreciate your thoughtfulness," Tom said, not caring whether she had given him a rock. She had given him something, and that meant a great deal to him.

"You say that, but you haven't even seen what the journal is actually capable of," Hermione huffed, yet her tone signified that she was obviously amused. "Open it."

Tom did as she commanded, staring at the blank pages inside and wondering what it was that Hermione expected him to see.

Hermione withdrew her writing supplies and a second journal from her book bag. Her journal appeared to be the twin of the journal in his possession.

"Look," Hermione stated. She wrote something on the first page of her journal.

Tom was surprised to see the words _Hello, Tom _written on the first page of his journal in Hermione's practiced script.

"Amazing," Tom breathed, sincerely impressed by the witch's ability.

"That's only the first part of it," Hermione commented wryly. "Turn to the next page and tap your wand against the page."

Wondering what could possibly make the present any better than it already was, Tom flipped to the next page and tapped his wand against the paper.

All of a sudden, every single spell that they had ever practiced was inscribed on the pages of the journal. Flipping through the next few pages, he noticed that Hermione had also included the revisions they had made to each spell.

"If you tap your wand again, it will disappear."

Tapping his wand against the page, the words disappeared, leaving behind blank pages.

"How did you ever manage this?" Tom inquired. "When did you find the time?"

"It was very complicated," Hermione confessed. "I worked on it when you were in class and before bed."

"Could you show me how you made it?" Tom asked eagerly.

Hermione agreed. She spent the rest of the afternoon explaining just how she had made the journal. She hadn't been lying when she said it was very complicated. Tom was incredibly surprised to discover that she had managed to create the incredibly useful invention from scratch.

* * *

><p>"Thank you for the gift. It is the most amazing thing I have ever received," Tom said later that night. Even if he were ever to receive a gift from anyone else, the gift would surely pale in comparison to what Hermione had given him.<p>

Hermione beamed at Tom. "I'm really glad you like it!"

She reached forward and embraced Tom in a hug, which he awkwardly returned. He liked the feeling of her in his arms. When she did pull away, he felt as though something were missing.

"Could we do that again?" Tom asked suddenly.

The Gryffindor witch's cheeks reddened, but she nevertheless complied with his request.

As he held the girl in his arms, Tom realized that the something that had been missing had been Hermione.

* * *

><p>"Glad to be home, sweetie?" Hermione's father, William Granger, inquired.<p>

Hermione gazed at the familiar setting which had never before seemed so _unfamiliar_.

"Yes," Hermione lied. She wished she were back in the Room of Requirement with Tom.

"Why don't you go put your luggage in your room?" Hermione's mother, Elena Granger, suggested. "I will make you a snack in the meantime."

Hermione gazed at her parents for a moment before agreeing. "I will be down in a few minutes."

Hermione carried her one bag up the stairs. She had decided to leave most of her items at Hogwarts, considering she still had plenty of supplies in her room to get through the winter break. Since she couldn't use her magic outside of Hogwarts, she had wanted to pack light.

Her room was just as she had left it: neat and orderly. Her mother had obviously kept it dust free while she had been away at school. She unpacked quickly before sitting down on her bed. The only items left in the bag consisted of her wand, the journal, and her writing supplies.

Removing the journal from the bag, she opened it to the first page.

_I'm home now_, Hermione wrote.

She waited a few minutes, seeing if there would be a reply. There wasn't.

_I will check back after dinner_, she scribbled in before closing the book.

Hermione tucked the journal under her pillow and exited her room.

* * *

><p>"Did you make any new friends at school?" Elena asked as she worked on making that night's dinner. William had retired to the living room and was watching a documentary on the television about sharks.<p>

"I did," Hermione said, telling her mother all about Tom Riddle.

"A boy?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed, blushing at her mother's expression.

"And you're blushing!" Elena seemed positively delighted.

"I'm only blushing because you seem to be implying we're more than friends," Hermione complained. "The idea is ridiculous. We're just friends."

"Okay," her mother replied, seemingly unconvinced if her wide grin was anything to go by.

"We're just friends," Hermione repeated. She couldn't help but think of the hug they had shared during their last meeting. Her cheeks reddened again.

"I believe you," Elena lied through her perfect teeth.

Hermione groaned.

* * *

><p>After dinner and more conversation, Hermione retired to her room. As soon as she had closed the door behind her, she pulled out the journal and checked to see if Tom had responded.<p>

_Life is dreadfully boring without you_.

Hermione smiled as she read the message. She read it again, and again, and then another three times for good measure. It appeared Tom missed her as much as she was missing him.

_I know what you mean_, Hermione wrote. _I can't wait to return to Hogwarts._

She again waited a few minutes for a response, but when she didn't get one she decided to place the journal back under her pillow.

* * *

><p>When she woke up the next morning, she was surprised to see that Tom had replied.<p>

_I can't wait either._

* * *

><p>The communication continued in much the same manner. Hermione spent most of her vacation sitting in her room under the pretense that she was studying for the upcoming term. Her parents were satisfied with her excuse. Even though they didn't understand the class material, they understood the value of a good grade.<p>

On Christmas Eve, before going to sleep, Hermione wrote a lengthy message to Tom:

_Merry Christmas, Tom! I hope you have a good day today. I may not be able to write to you until tomorrow night because several relatives are coming over for dinner tomorrow, and they will be arriving early. I just want to let you know that even though you think you did not get me anything for Christmas, you actually did. You gave me your friendship, and that's the best present I could have ever asked for_.

After proofreading her message, she signed it and closed the journal with a sly smile.

* * *

><p><em>December 31, 1938<em>

Tom woke up on Christmas morning to an empty dorm room and immediately opened up the journal. Seeing that Hermione had left him a message, he read through it eagerly. He had a smile on his face as he read the last line, where she had signed the message _Secretly, Yours_.

* * *

><p>AN: A relatively short and fluffy filler chapter (that reads more like a series of drabbles than anything) to cover the month of December. It just makes me wish winter vacation would arrive already. Thank you to all my amazing reviewers! I love reading all the responses to the story :)!


	10. Different

Following Hermione's return to the castle and the start of the new term, Hermione and Tom fell back into their routine of studying in silence, dueling, improving spells, and rushing through a series of homework assignments that would take other first years triple the amount of time it took the two of them to complete. The extra time allowed for further progress of their ever-expanding knowledge of magic.

Outside of the Room of Requirement, Hermione's journals were proving to be invaluable.

_The class is trying to turn a mouse into a snuff-box. Professor McGonagall implied that it will be on the exam, _Hermione wrote during Transfiguration class. She brushed the feather-end of her quill against her cheek as she waited patiently for a response.

She did not have to wait long. Although the fifteenth of January was a Wednesday for her, Tom was enjoying a Sunday in 1939.

_What an easy task. I assume you are the only one to complete it?_

Hermione could practically hear his snickers as she wrote her response. _The closest anyone else has managed to get so far was a Ravenclaw giving his mouse a square shape._

She glanced up from the journal when she heard Professor McGonagall screaming. Training her eyes onto her favorite professor, she was not at all surprised to see her anger was directed at Seamus Finnigan. The boy had somehow managed to accidentally blow up his mouse in a botched attempt to turn it into a snuffbox. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were wailing because remnants of Seamus' mouse had ended up in their hair and on their uniforms.

Hermione shook her head at her housemates' foolishness, but was unable to resist describing the event to Tom.

* * *

><p>On February 14, 1992, Draco Malfoy learned that Hermione Granger was different.<p>

After dinner that evening, he had decided to test out his newly learned Leg-Locker Curse on unsuspecting Gryffindors in the library. He had already managed to successfully curse Neville Longbottom, who had bunny-hopped away after an exchange of insults. Draco's sharp-tongue had left the boy near tears. Even without his devoted goons Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle at his back, Draco felt powerful that night – unstoppable, even.

So when he spotted mudblood Granger browsing the bookshelf in the Transfiguration section of the library, he could not have stopped himself even if he had wanted to.

He wanted to put her in her place. She thought she was so much better because she was smart. _Brightest witch of her age_, the professors called her. _She's so intelligent, I wish I could be like her_, the Ravenclaws gushed in admiration. Even Professor Snape, who loathed anyone not of the Slytherin house, grudgingly respected the girl as she proved her ability again and again.

However, Draco Malfoy had been raised as most pure-blooded children were: to believe that mudbloods were worse than dirt. Mudbloods were impure. They were anomalies, beasts! They tainted the world with their existence. They were beneath those who were pure-blooded, and therefore they were beneath him.

If that were the case, an inner-voice nagged, why did he feel as though he were the one beneath Hermione Granger? Why did he strive to be better than her, if he was supposed to be naturally better due to his blood status?

The thoughts caused him a great deal of inner turmoil. He felt himself challenging the beliefs that had been ingrained in him since a young age. Had his father lied to him? Or worse, had his father been wrong?

Eleven-year old Draco Malfoy did not know what to think about that last one. He did not _want_ to think about it. So on February 14, 1992, he acted instead of thinking.

"_Locomotor Mortis_," Draco whispered with glee, watching as the spell shot toward the unsuspecting girl.

However, it turned out that she was not as unsuspecting as he had expected. His curse smashed into a barrier. It crackled, fizzed, and then disappeared in an angry hiss.

Draco's eyes widened as the girl turned to face him with a blank expression. Her brown eyes looked positively arctic in the dim-lighting of the library, and Draco found himself suppressing a shiver.

He clutched his wand nervously, waiting for her to retaliate. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he waited, and waited, and finally realized that she was not going to hex him into oblivion. The realization brought him little-to-no comfort, and he remained unable to relax.

"I am going to pretend that you did not that," Hermione stated, finally breaking the silence with a clipped tone. "However, you are not going to try that again. Not on me and not on anyone else."

Draco nodded his head mutely before he suddenly realized what he was doing. After taking a second to compose himself, he bravely – and even in his own mind, foolishly – sneered, "You think I'm going to listen to a mudblood like you?"

Her expression turned dark, and Draco knew it was not due to the room's lighting.

"You're not going to call me that anymore, either."

"Or what?" Draco found himself taunting in an attempt to mask how disconcerted she made him feel. He felt as though he was possessed, and he was sure the next word he uttered had been the result of the Imperius Curse. "Mudblood."

He regretted the action before the word even finished passing through his lips, but that night was about acting, not thinking.

A flock of dark birds – crows, his mind registered – appeared out of thin air. They flew in an angry circle for a moment as though waiting for a command. The command was a spell, which was masked by Draco's terrified shriek as the birds flew at him. Beaks and talons clawed, pierced, pinched, tore, and scratched at his skin and clothes.

When the grouchy librarian Irma Pince finally did arrive to investigate the noise, she told a petrified Draco Malfoy that he was disrupting the library and he had to leave. The birds – the only evidence of the attack beside his appearance, which the librarian caustically ignored – had disappeared. Hermione had returned to browsing the bookshelf, but he felt her eyes trailing his movements as he left the library in shock.

She was not like other Gryffindors who would have been caught by a professor and ultimately given a detention, Draco realized. Nor was she was like other first years, as no first year should have been capable of doing what she had just done. He was terrified to contemplate what she might be like in a year or two from then. He didn't even want to think about what she might become after she left the school. But he knew better now.

Hermione Granger was different.

* * *

><p>"You're a bit late," Tom commented as Hermione entered the room with a weighty book bag.<p>

"Draco Malfoy tried to curse me in the library," the girl explained as though she was describing the weather.

"What did he _try_ to use?" Tom asked, emphasizing the word with a smirk.

"_Locomotor Mortis_."

"The Leg-Locker Curse? How juvenile," Tom scoffed. "Please tell me you used the Conjunctivitis Curse on him."

Hermione cringed, recalling the painful curse that Tom had used on her in their most recent duel. Her eyes had swelled nastily, blinding her and securing a victory for Tom.

"_Avis _and _Oppugno, _actually," Hermione commented.

"You use that combination too much. If you keep doing that, you'll become predictable."

Hermione laughed, "You know better than anyone that I'm anything but predictable."

Tom gave her a wry smile.

"But I suppose you are right. I'm just not comfortable using those really dark spells that you seem so acquainted with," Hermione explained.

"Just because they're dark doesn't mean they're evil," Tom commented.

Hermione knew Tom was right, but countered, "They tempt the users to use them for evil purposes."

"And that's why simple-minded people become dark wizards."

"So you think an intelligent wizard – or witch," Hermione purposely tacked on the last bit with a smile, "would not become evil if they used dark magic?"

Tom nodded his head. "Anyone else would understand that true power rests in complete knowledge. A person can't rely on just dark spells, or just light spells. They need to rely on a combination of both."

Hermione stared at Tom, contemplating his words. "I suppose that does make sense."

"Of course it does," Tom stated matter-of-factly.

"What's your opinion on the Unforgivable Curses, then?"

"Knowledge is power," the Slytherin boy quoted.

* * *

><p>The following week, Gryffindor played Hufflepuff in Quidditch and won.<p>

"See, Harry!" Neville clapped the bespectacled boy on the back at dinner that night. "You're a great Seeker! You won that match in no time at all. If Slytherin hadn't cheated, and someone hadn't been tampering with your broom, Gryffindor would have won last time."

Harry did look comforted by his friend's words, but only slightly.

Hermione had not bothered to attend the match, but had instead read a book about Curses that Tom had suggested. Ever since their discussion a week before, Hermione had been more open to studying the Dark Arts. Although she liked to sum up her willingness to do so as Tom being a very convincing fellow, she couldn't deny that it was also due to her personal curiosity concerning the subject that led her to study dark magic.

"You should have heard what that snarky git Malfoy was saying," a black-eyed Ron Weasley muttered as he reached for another helping of spaghetti. "I got him good too, at least."

Glancing over at the Slytherin table, Hermione could see that Draco didn't look any worse for wear than his usual pristine self. When Draco caught her staring at him, his eyes widened in shock. He immediately lowered his gaze back to his plate.

Hermione frowned at his behavior, but thought it was better that he needlessly fear her than think he could get away with attempting to curse, hex, or jinx her in the future.

She directed her attention back to Harry Potter. His condition had only worsened since November. He slept on his textbooks and homework in the common room every night in a desperate yet vain attempt to catch up with the school work. While Neville tried his best to help out his two friends, he was only able to aid them in matters related to Herbology. Ron had just given up completely. He turned in poorly somewhat-completed homework assignments and rarely managed to accomplish any task aside from showing up to class.

She had also noticed that Harry had developed a bad case of paranoia, as he was constantly looking over his shoulder. He seemed to think the Potions Master had it out for him.

Hermione was almost tempted to tell Harry that Snape was the one who had saved him during his first Quidditch match, but decided against it. First, he would never believe her and she did not have any evidence. Second, it was not her business.

And she had no intention of making it her business.

* * *

><p>In early April, Hermione suggested they start working on nonverbal spells.<p>

"I know it isn't something we're supposed to learn until sixth year, but it'd certainly be useful to get a head start," Hermione explained. She always thought it was useful to be ahead.

Tom was looking forward to their new challenge. He had wanted to learn nonverbal spells for quite some time as well, but he had several side projects that occupied his time. If he wasn't learning new spells for their weekly duels, he was reading books about immortality. Much like how Hermione had worked on the journal in her spare time as a secret gift for him, he worked on finding the secret to immortality as a secret gift for her. At some point, finding immortality had become just as much about sharing it with Hermione as it was in finding it for himself.

"I assume you've been doing some research?" Tom asked. He already knew the answer.

"Well, yes," Hermione replied, blushing. He really knew her too well. "I found out that there's no real way of learning how to do it, you just need to practice it until you can do it. You picture yourself saying the spell, but you don't say it."

Tom nodded his head. It sounded easier than he assumed it would be.

"Shall we practice, then?" Tom asked.

"Okay," Hermione said. "Let's try something easy."

She withdrew two quills from her bag, placing one in front of Tom and the other in front of herself.

"Try to levitate the quill," Hermione instructed. She then went about trying to do exactly that.

It was quite difficult. At first, he could only get the quill to hover an inch or two off the ground, but two hours of deep concentration later, it was floating several feet above his head.

Hermione glanced at the quill, feeling both impressed and jealous. Her quill could only hover a foot above the ground. However, she knew she shouldn't have felt too discouraged as Tom was naturally the faster learner.

"How about you try a book now?" Hermione suggested.

Tom successfully levitated the book on his first try.

Hermione was unable to contain a frustrated huff.

"Don't be angry," Tom chided with a grin. "It's easy after you get the hang of it."

She frowned at his words, bringing her attention back to the quill.

Tom moved onto trying to use the disillusionment charm on the journal.

* * *

><p>"Finally!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly less than an hour later. Tom glanced at the quill floating high in the air above their heads.<p>

Tom wondered if she would hug him out of excitement. They hadn't hugged since the one time in December, and he was eagerly wishing they would. He didn't know how to go about initiating one, so he was waiting for her to do so.

Disappointed when she didn't, Tom frowned at the book that had yet to give into his efforts to turn it invisible. His progress had only merited a less-than-satisfactory shimmery transparency.

"Good job," Tom commented.

"Thank you," Hermione replied with a smile. She was always happy when others admired and praised her abilities and accomplishments. Tom thought it was an endearing quality.

He wished she would just hug him already.

"You're working on a nonverbal disillusionment charm?" Hermione inquired.

"Evidently," Tom replied dryly as he glared at the book.

"That was a large jump from _Wingardium Leviosa_, but it looks like you're making a good deal of progress for such a complex spell," Hermione admired.

He could imagine his progress would be amplified if she hugged him.

"I think I'll try _Avis_ next," she mused aloud, not wanting to start too small when Tom had so impressively chosen a difficult spell to practice.

Tom thought about nonverbally _Imperio_-ing her to hug him, but then decided that wouldn't work well. First, he'd have to learn how to nonverbally _Imperio_. Second, the controlled hug probably wouldn't have felt the same as Hermione hugging him of her own free will.

* * *

><p>Hermione had produced one bright yellow canary with a nonverbal <em>Avis<em> by the time Tom finally made up his mind.

"Hermione, can we hug?" He asked, knowing it must have sounded incredibly random and likely preposterous. However, he knew if he hadn't asked, he would have stewed in his thoughts for a very long time and likely wouldn't have gotten any sleep that night as a result.

The witch looked at him in an odd manner before her cheeks flushed a radiant pink.

"It's okay if you don't want to," Tom said, gazing down at his hands. "Just forget about it."

He was surprised by her next words. "No, it's okay. I don't mind. I was just surprised."

"You must think I'm crazy," Tom said with a laugh.

She didn't think he was crazy. She had thought about their hug throughout the entire winter break, and the thought had only been amplified after returning to the castle. It surprised her that he had enjoyed it, although she should have guessed that since he had asked for a second hug after their first one.

"I do not think you are crazy, Tom," Hermione commented.

"I would think I was crazy."

"You aren't crazy," she repeated. She closed the distance and embraced him.

"See," Hermione stated as she felt Tom's arms wrap around her body, "certainly not crazy."

Tom smiled into her bushy hair.

Hermione made sure to hug Tom at least once a day from that moment on because, although she wouldn't admit it, she liked hugging Tom too.

* * *

><p>AN: This chapter is slightly longer, but less fluffy than the previous chapter. Nearly at the end of the first year, but this is largely due to Hermione's very limited involvement in Harry's affairs. And yes, all of you Harry-lovers: Harry will live to see his second year - somehow...


	11. Norbert

In early May, Hermione discovered that Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, and Ron Weasley were up to something – something they didn't want anyone else to know about.

Hermione believed that people were entitled to their secrets (she surely was!); however, she also believed that if people wanted their secrets to remain as such, they very well ought to do a good job at making sure no one discovered said secrets.

So when Ron's hand mysteriously swelled to double its normal size seemingly overnight, Hermione's curiosity surfaced.

"What happened to your hand?" Lavender asked at breakfast that morning. She had just arrived with her friend, Parvati Patil, and had therefore not heard the other four people unsuccessfully inquire about the redhead's hand.

"None of your business," the redhead grouchily snapped back, leaving Lavender flustered and angry. She flipped her hair and turned to Parvati, loudly complaining about how rude their housemate was being.

"Perhaps you should get it checked out," Dean Thomas suggested as he stared at the redhead's hand in grotesque amazement.

"Bugger off, all of you!" Ron exclaimed in exasperation. He hid his hand beneath the table in an effort to avoid further staring, pointing, and whispering. "It's none of your bloody business."

Harry and Neville both looked apologetic for their friend's behavior.

"He's not feeling too well," Neville attempted to explain, but his explanation was met by deaf ears. It seemed people were content to remain angry with Ron's crabby attitude.

"That's what happens when you touch yourself down there, Ronnikins," the Weasley twins chorused as they claimed a seat across from where their brother sat.

"Imagine how our poor mother will take this bit of news," one twin mused aloud.

"She'll be shocked!" The other twin exclaimed.

"Horrified!"

They broke into boisterous laughter as Ron grumbled something under his breath.

Harry jabbed Ron with his elbow, causing the redhead to glare angrily at his friend.

* * *

><p>"Your hand is green," Hermione remarked dryly as her pineapple performed a series of impressive acrobatics across the tabletop during their Charms lesson later that day.<p>

Ron scowled at her, but the effect was lost by how nauseated he appeared. He brought his good hand to his mouth, as if holding back his breakfast.

"If you do plan on vomiting, please don't do it on me," Harry joked weakly. He was concerned about his friend, but he also knew the redhead did not like to be told what to do. Harry did not want to be the source of Ron's anger.

"You really should go to the Hospital Wing," Neville urged. He had unsuccessfully tried to convince his friend to go during their previous class, Herbology, but the redhead seemed dead-set on denying himself medical treatment. Hermione thought if he died from an infection, it would serve the idiot right.

"Shut up," the redhead responded through clenched teeth as he failed for the umpteenth time to make the pineapple perform a cartwheel. It rolled over pathetically in response to his attempts.

Ron wiped away the perspiration that had formed on his forehead with the sleeve of his robe.

"Seriously Ron, just go," Harry said, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Just say a dog bit it if you're asked."

Hermione had unintentionally caught the last bit.

"What _actually_ bit him?" Hermione inquired.

Harry glanced at her in surprise, as though he hadn't thought she would hear. By the look on his face, Hermione could tell she was about to be lied to.

"Ron's rat, Scabbers, bit him the other night. Ron's pretty attached to the thing, so he doesn't want anyone to know that it bit him. It might be put down if anyone knew," Neville interjected, saving his black-haired friend from having to respond.

Hermione stared at the three friends. She thought it was a good story, playing up the entire boy-loves-his-pet bit. However, she was already well aware that Ron held little affection for the rodent called Scabbers. He was always complaining about the hand-me-down pet and the only term she had ever heard Ron refer to his rat by was not one of endearment.

She did not have a chance to call the boys on the discrepancy because Professor Flitwick arrived to inspect their section's progress.

"Good job as always, Ms. Granger," the Charms instructor praised with a smile. "Take a point for Gryffindor!"

Hermione beamed at the short man's generosity.

"Oh my – Mr. Weasley, please go get that hand checked at the Hospital Wing at once!"

Ron's face was sour as he picked up his bag with his good hand and left the room.

* * *

><p>"<em>Healer's Guide to Magical Creature Bites<em>?" Tom inquired. "Usually you find more exciting names to use to hide what you're actually researching. I liked the one you used last time. _Snake Handling 101_, if I recall correctly. It was creative and the humor was not lost on me."

"I'm trying to see which creature's bite can cause swelling, nausea, and greenness," Hermione replied, reading through the section on spider bites.

"And here I was thinking you were studying exploding jinxes or conjuration," Tom said with a smirk. Hermione had no idea what subject he was reading about in _Naval War Strategies._ "I suppose there's a reason for researching creature bites?"

Placing her finger on _Attercoppe_, Hermione glanced up from the text to explain. "Ron Weasley showed up to breakfast this morning with a hand that had swelled to double its original size. Later in the day, it turned green. He was also pretty nauseated and irritable, but I think the irritability is just his personality rather than a symptom."

Tom pondered what Hermione had told him. He didn't particularly like the Weasley boy in his time and he doubted his descendant was any better. Given Hermione's constant complaints about how bothersome the redhead was, Tom was under the impression that his assumption was correct.

"It sounds poisonous," Tom suggested.

Hermione nodded, having already thought of that possibility. "Unfortunately, that does not narrow it down too considerably. Apparently there are a lot of poisonous creatures in the magical world. I've already covered snakes. I'm looking at spiders now."

"You should try dragons after," Tom suggested. "I read a book about dragons back in September. I had been surprised to learn that they actually existed and had wanted to learn all that I could about them. There are a few breeds capable of a toxic bite. Then again, if he were bitten by one of those dragons, he'd probably be dead by now."

Hermione smiled at her companion. "I will do that – thank you for the suggestion. But I really do wonder: what would Ron Weasley be doing with a dragon?"

* * *

><p>"What were you doing with a dragon?" Hermione hissed as she shook Harry awake from a deep slumber.<p>

Harry blinked up at her and then adjusted his glasses, which had shifted on his face while he had rested against the tabletop.

"Wha— what time is it?" Harry asked.

Hermione shrugged. She knew it was later than one in the morning, but she was not certain of the exact time. "Late. But answer my question: what were you three doing with a dragon?"

Harry's eyes widened in surprise and he glanced around the common room to see if anyone else was listening in on what they were saying. However, the room was empty except the two of them. Neville, who usually slept on the table with Harry and Ron, had likely retired to bed without wishing to disturb his friend from his much needed slumber. And Ron, Hermione could only assume, was holed up in the Hospital Wing under orders from Madam Pomfrey.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Harry lied.

Hermione rolled her eyes in frustration. "I know you are lying, Harry. Ron was bitten by a Norwegian Ridgeback. Now please explain, why on earth would Ron have been around a Norwegian Ridgeback in the first place?"

Harry sighed. "Would you at least tell me how you found out? Did Malfoy tell you? Although I can't see why he would."

"Malfoy? What does he have to do with anything?" Hermione inquired. She wondered why Malfoy would know about the situation.

"Never mind," Harry stated. "So how did you find out about Norbert?"

"Norbert?" Hermione asked, again feeling confused by the conversation. "Who or what is Norbert?"

"The Norwegian Ridgeback."

"Its name is Norbert?" Hermione inquired in a tone that suggested Harry was insane for naming a dragon.

"Hagrid named it," the bespectacled boy replied defensively.

"Hagrid … wait, you mean the half-giant groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid? What is he doing with a dragon? They're not exactly legal! How is he even hiding it?"

Harry groaned to himself. "I wasn't supposed to have told you that. I thought you knew. Hermione, you cannot tell anyone what I've told you. Please!"

"You haven't told me all that much," Hermione retaliated. "At least, you haven't told me anything that makes much sense."

"That's probably for the best," Harry muttered under his breath.

"I already know that Hagrid is hiding a Norwegian Ridgeback named Norbert," Hermione said the name as though it were distasteful. "And this Norbert bit Ron…and somehow Malfoy is involved?"

"That's pretty much it, but don't worry about the Malfoy bit. It's not important," Harry explained in a manner that suggested Malfoy's involvement was actually incredibly important, but not in a good way.

Hermione stared at her housemate with a look of disdain. "No, that's not _pretty much it_. Why isn't Ron dead? Norwegian Ridgebacks possess a highly toxic bite. If he was bitten, he shouldn't have survived."

Harry's complexion paled as he absorbed the last bit of information. "He could have died?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed, gauging his expression. He appeared incredibly disturbed by the fact. "So why isn't he dead?"

"Norbert is just a baby at the moment… well he's growing really fast, but he's still not fully-grown," Harry explained after a few moments of silence. He still remained incredibly disturbed by the news that his friend could have possibly died.

"That makes sense," Hermione stated. "It explains why nobody has caught onto the fact that Hagrid is raising a dragon and why Ron didn't die from the bite."

"Can you stop saying that?" Harry pleaded, not wishing to be reminded of his friend's possible demise.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, but ultimately consented. "Fine, but your friend really got off lucky."

Harry nodded slowly. "Now, would you tell me how exactly you found out about Norbert?"

"It's called research, Harry," Hermione said, pulling out _Healer's Guide to Magical Creature Bites _from her book bag_. _She then proceeded to flip to the section on dragon bites. After finding the page she was looking for, she handed Harry the book.

"Norwegian Ridgeback," Hermione commented. "Does it look familiar?"

Harry read the passage slowly, realizing the definition matched Ron's bite exactly. A fully-grown Norwegian Ridgeback's bite would have paralyzed its victim, turning the skin green from a buildup of poison. Other results of the poison included swelling of the body, nausea, and ultimately death. There was little hope for bite victims unless immediate treatment was provided.

The bespectacled boy inhaled loudly after he finished reading the section. A question weighed heavily on his mind. "If Ron hadn't been sent to the Hospital Wing during Charms, would he have died if he had left the wound untreated?"

"That's a very likely possibility," Hermione remarked. "However, it would have taken some time for the poison to spread throughout his body."

Harry handed the book back to her with closed eyes, as though imagining his friend's demise.

"Do you mind keeping this conversation between us?"

"Don't worry, I will," Hermione agreed. She had no reason to share the information. The mystery had been solved and her curiosity was satiated. "Have a good night, Harry."

When she reached the stairs leading up to the girls' dormitory, she turned around. "Oh, and you messed up on your homework. The Calming Draught uses mint, not lint."

Harry glanced down at his Potion's essay and discovered the error. When he looked up again, Hermione had disappeared from view.

* * *

><p>AN: Wow! I was surprised to see such an overwhelming response for the last chapter. As thanks, I decided to put together a quick chapter to get readers through until the weekend, which is when I usually try to update.

I hope I addressed some questions/concerns that people had through PMs. As always, feel free to leave your feedback, as I do enjoy reading what people have to say.

Quite a few people asked about Voldemort-on-the-back-of-Quirrell's head, and what he's thinking about regarding Hermione. However, this story will merely assume that he is concentrating first-and-foremost on regaining his body. I mean, would you want to talk to your friend from the future if you were just leeching off some guy's head? I wouldn't!


	12. Exams

When Hermione entered the Great Hall the Sunday following her late-night conversation with Harry Potter, she noticed something was amiss.

Gryffindor was missing _one-hundred_ house points.

Although Hermione wasn't particularly one for competitions, she had accumulated her fair share of house points over the school year due to her various accomplishments during classes, ranging from answering questions correctly to being the first one in the class to complete a task. On top of her significant contribution to the Gryffindor hourglass, she had never once lost a single point – not even to Professor Snape, who reveled in seizing house points from Gryffindor students.

To discover that her house was missing one-hundred house points was initially a rather staggering blow. However, the discomfort of the realization passed quickly. After all, what hope did Gryffindor possess in winning the house competition in the first place? Gryffindor had maintained a steady third place throughout the school year, with only Hufflepuff being lower. Now that Gryffindor was in fourth place at negative thirty points, Hermione did not think it was really that much of a difference. Several of her housemates seemed to come to the same conclusion as they passed by the hourglasses on their way to the Gryffindor table.

Ten minutes later, the story behind the missing points had come to light: Harry Potter and another first year had been responsible for losing the one-hundred house points. Although Percy Weasley glared daggers at the Boy-Who-Lived as he left the Great Hall, the rest of the Gryffindors either ignored the situation completely or were interested in finding out just how exactly the boys had managed the feat.

The Weasley twins were two such individuals. They were positively bursting with curiosity at the prospect of learning what had been done to merit the punishment, but at the same time they felt a bit slighted. After all, they had just been outdone as troublemakers by a pair of first years.

"We've never lost one-hundred points in one go," Fred – or was it George? – claimed. "I think forty was our maximum."

"That was twenty apiece," the other twin corrected solemnly.

"I thought everyone would hate me for the rest of time," Harry said as he nervously ran a hand through his messy black hair. "I was up all night worrying about it."

That explained the exceptionally dark rings around his eyes, Hermione thought.

"Nah," the twins chorused.

"We never had a chance of winning the House Cup after Slytherin won the first Quidditch match. Just about everyone has resigned themselves to yet another Slytherin victory this year," Lee Jordan, the twin's friend, explained.

"Pretty much everyone except for Percy," George – maybe Fred – contributed with a large grin. "He's probably wishing he were in Slytherin right about now." The last bit was said with a disgusted tone, and several Gryffindors in hearing range made faces at the idea of becoming a Slytherin.

"So how did you two manage to lose fifty points apiece?" The other twin, who Hermione dubbed as Twin One, asked. The question was directed at both Harry and Neville, but Neville seemed to shy away at the sudden attention.

Harry shrugged. "Filch caught us wandering around the castle after hours."

"Doing what?" Twin Two inquired.

"Nothing in particular," Harry replied smoothly, as though he had practiced the excuse a million times before.

"That's not very descriptive," both twins remarked.

"Professor McGonagall was in a particularly bad mood last night," Harry explained. Hermione suspected that Harry was only providing half of the explanation, and she briefly wondered if the subject was worth pursuing at a later time. After a few moments of inner-musing, she decided that no, it wasn't of particular interest to her – not with exams coming up.

The twins were surprisingly satisfied by Harry's explanation, apparently finding it easy to believe that a grouchy Gryffindor Head of House was the sole reason behind the large point loss. They turned away and began to plot about how to outdo Harry and Neville's point loss before summer break. After all, what harm could it do to lose more house points? Gryffindor had no chance of recovering from the heavy blow.

By dinnertime, the twins had managed to convince an overwhelming amount of Gryffindors (Percy excluded) to join in on their lawlessness. From that day forward, the new Gryffindor goal was to go down in Hogwarts history as having the lowest amount of house points ever.

* * *

><p>The term was winding down to a close. There were only a few weeks remaining before the final exams took place.<p>

Hermione and Tom had altered their schedule to make duels a bi-weekly occurrence rather than a weekly event. They spent the extra time hunched over their textbooks, memorizing fact after fact. Every so often, one would direct a question at the other. The purpose of the exercise was to test the other's knowledge, but it had expanded into a competition to see who could stump the other with a difficult question.

"What year was the Yellis vampire coven eradicated, by whom, and for what reason?" Tom asked.

"That would never be asked on the exam," Hermione chided.

"Are you conceding defeat? Do you really not know it?" Tom's face lit up, thinking he had finally delivered the question that Hermione would be unable to answer.

"The Yellis coven was destroyed in 1740 by Italian Auror Philip Bassos in order to avenge the murder of his family two years prior," Hermione replied with a smile. "He used _Fiendfyre _to burn the crypt and its occupants."

Tom mock sighed after Hermione finished answering the question. "Know it all."

"As if you're one to talk," Hermione countered.

Tom grinned at her in response before he resumed reading, likely to formulate another question to challenge her with.

* * *

><p>"What are you going to do over the summer?" Tom asked Hermione. Exams would begin the following week, and that would be it. They wouldn't see each other until September.<p>

_September_, Tom thought. It seemed ages away already.

"My parents enjoy vacationing in different countries," Hermione commented. "They mentioned France or Greece as a possibility when I visited over winter break."

Tom nodded. He had never been outside the country before. Even before coming to Hogwarts, the furthest away he had ever been from the orphanage had been the annual summer beach trip. He thought traveling sounded exciting and that he would like to try it sometime after he finished his education at Hogwarts.

"They think I'm too young to stay at home, which I think would be better. I spend most of my time reading in the hotel room anyway," Hermione said with a frown. "What do you do during the summer?"

"Avoid the other children, talk to the occasional garden snake, try to avoid the heat," Tom replied casually as Hermione absorbed the answer with a frown.

He closed his eyes. He did not want the year to end because he would have to return to the dreaded orphanage. Tom hated the orphanage when he had been there, but would undoubtedly despise it to an even greater extent when he returned. Now that he knew freedom, and magic, and Hermione, it would be unbearable to be without.

Glancing at the girl in front of him, he tried to memorize every detail about her. Her bushy, unmanageable hair and her warm brown eyes were the most obvious, but it was her toothy smile with her two slightly larger front teeth that Tom wished to see. He wanted to capture the image that would get him through the summer break.

Hermione sighed. "It would be so much better if we could use magic outside of school. I hate being restricted to just textbooks."

"Seventeen seems so far away," Tom mused, referring to the age when the Trace would wear off and he would finally be able to perform magic outside of school grounds.

"It won't be if the school year goes by as quick as this one did," Hermione said. She smiled at her companion. "I must say, after October, the rest of the school year seemed to rush by."

"I wonder why," Tom remarked with a grin. The school year had definitely rushed by after meeting Hermione.

The Gryffindor girl reached across to playfully bat his arm.

"I will miss you dreadfully," Hermione stated suddenly.

Tom agreed, more so than he would ever admit. Hermione was his first and only friend. It was a nice feeling, having a friend, but it was a terrible feeling to know that he would have to go without her for a few months.

"But I'm glad we still have six more years together after this one," she continued.

_Six more years_ hung in the air above them like an executioner's blade.

"What are we going to do after we graduate?" Tom found himself asking.

Hermione shook her head. She did not know either, and she had not thought about it until that moment. "Six years is still plenty of time to figure that out. We've accomplished so much this year already. Just imagine what the next six years will bring."

Tom knew she was right, but it didn't ease the worry that had crept into his mind.

The Gryffindor girl smiled wistfully at him as she continued, "I am certain that we will find a way to communicate after graduation – beyond the confines of written word."

Although seventeen seemed like a long time away, six years with Hermione – roughly the same amount of time – seemed like it would come about the following day. It was simply not enough time. As Tom saw it, he had two choices. One, he could find a way to travel through time – if such a thing was even possible; or two, he could discover the secret to immortality and wait several decades for Hermione to exist.

"It will be the first thing we look into when we return in September," Hermione promised, setting the agenda for the next school year. Tom liked the secure promise of continued interaction.

"Will you write to me at least once a day?" Tom asked after a moment of silence.

"At least twice a day," Hermione promised.

* * *

><p>Hermione did not like to think that she did well on exams. If she did not do well, she would not be disappointed. If she did do well, she would feel pleased with the outcome. However, despite her philosophy, Hermione could not help but feel that she had done immensely well on all of her exams.<p>

As she walked out of her last exam of the term, History of Magic, she felt relieved that she had finished her exams, but sad that it signified the end of classes and ultimately the end of the school year.

* * *

><p>"How did your exam go?" Tom asked.<p>

"I'm sure I did alright," Hermione casually replied.

"So you did great?"

"Studying with you really helped out. The tests seemed really easy. Easier than I expected, anyway," Hermione explained.

Tom glanced down. "That's good then."

Hermione smiled reassuringly at Tom. "You'll do fine."

Tom wasn't worried about his grades. Well, he was, but not as strongly as Hermione believed him to be.

Although June fourth, the last day of exams, was a Thursday for her, Tom had yet to begin his exam week as it was still only Sunday. He would begin the following day, but it also meant that Hermione would leave the castle before him.

"I'm going to miss this place," Hermione said, gazing around the room, but her words referred to the castle in large. "Really, I'm just going to miss magic in general. It's odd. Before I knew that I was a witch, I wouldn't have cared less about magic. Now I feel like I'm going to be losing a part of me for a few months."

Tom felt the same exact way, but even more so because he would be returning to nothing and no one. At least Hermione had her parents. He had a small room that he could not even call his own. But at least he would have a piece of Hermione with him. He wouldn't be losing her completely. Even if he wasn't able to see her in person, he would always have her charming cursive script embedded in the first page of the journal.

* * *

><p>Tom had chosen to retire early that night because he had a Transfiguration exam first thing in the morning with his least favorite person at the school, Dumbledore. He wanted to be in the best of shape to deal with "the senile old fool."<p>

After parting ways, Hermione had leisurely journeyed back to Gryffindor Tower under the guise of her disillusionment charm. As she approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, however, she was surprised to see the portrait open without prompt.

Although no one visibly exited the common room, Hermione could hear voices – very familiar voices.

"Owch! Watch where you're stepping, Neville!"

"Sorry!"

Hermione had recognized the owner of the first voice as none other than Ron Weasley. The apology had been from Neville Longbottom, but Ron had already given that away.

"Will you both be quiet? We can't let Filch catch us. We've got to stop Snape before he steals the Stone!"

The third speaker was Harry Potter.

Although she could not see them, she was comforted by the fact that they could not see her either – and she wasn't about to alert them to her presence, especially since she didn't want to explain her own nightly adventures to the wandering trio.

The gears in her mind churned regarding the implications of her discovery. Had they somehow managed to master the disillusionment charm as well? She had thought it was a rather difficult feat, but to imagine those three boys achieving the same accomplishment – well, that seemed incredibly unrealistic.

Several other questions also raced through her mind. What were they doing sneaking out of the common room after curfew? Why did they think Professor Snape was trying to steal something from the castle, or rather, why did they think he wanted to steal a stone from the castle? What was so important about the stone that the Potions Master was supposedly set on stealing?

Her curiosity urged her to follow the noisy shuffle of the boys' movements as they disappeared down the corridor. Unlike the boys, she made sure to mask the sound of her movements with a silencing spell.

She followed them to the first flight of stairs, where Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was on the prowl. Hermione heard Ron's whispered plea to kick the cat, and she had to resist yelling at him for wanting to abuse the feline. Just because the cat's owner wasn't the most pleasant man in the world did not mean that the poor cat deserved to be mistreated! Fortunately, the cat remained untouched. It eerily watched the group of invisible first years shuffle by, but made no movement to summon its owner.

On the staircase leading to the third floor, they encountered Peeves, the castle's resident poltergeist and general annoyance. It seemed he had been busy loosening the carpet in order to trip unsuspecting passersby. Ever observant, Hermione had recognized the poltergeist from afar and had stopped several feet away. However, the noisy movements of the three boys had drawn the trickster's attention.

"Who's there? Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?" From his words, it was obvious that Peeves knew he wasn't alone. Fortunately, it also seemed that he wasn't entirely sure who was there. When Peeves received no answer to his question, he threatened to call Filch, but Hermione doubted Peeves would help the caretaker. He'd delight in torturing the trouble-making students all by himself.

"Peeves, the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible," Harry called out in a hoarse voice.

Hermione was surprised that the poltergeist had fallen for the trick. If Peeves so greatly feared the Bloody Baron, shouldn't he have been able to decipher the Slytherin ghost's voice from that of an imposter? Regardless, Peeves had been thoroughly scared by the supposed presence of the Bloody Baron and had taken off without another word.

Ron and Neville complimented Harry on his quick thinking, and even Hermione was impressed that they had managed to avoid a potentially disastrous outcome.

Only a few steps away from where they had encountered Peeves, Hermione heard the boys come to a stop.

Glancing around, she suddenly realized where they were. The Headmaster's words from September first resonated in her mind:

"_And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." _

And of course she already knew what resided behind the door. She knew Dumbledore had a very valid reason for including the phrase _to die a very painful death_ during the first night at Hogwarts. After all, she had nearly died back in September after foolishly following Harry, Ron, and Neville to the very same room – the exact same room that held a very large and ferocious three-headed dog.

"Well, there you are. Snape's already got past Fluffy," Harry stated as he glanced at the slightly open door.

Of all the possible names, that giant beast was called _Fluffy_? She believed it would have more appropriately dubbed Demon or Killer. Who in the world would give that monstrosity such an innocent and misleading name? Hermione thought that whoever had done such a thing was indeed sick in the head.

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you. You can take the cloak, I won't need it now," Harry said.

"Don't be stupid," Ron scowled.

"We're in this together," Neville affirmed.

Hermione watched as the already ajar door was pushed open further by an invisible force. The three-headed beast – _Fluffy_, Hermione mentally scoffed – sniffed the air, trying to rely on its sense of smell, but was ultimately deceived by its sight. To the magical creature, it was as if a gust of wind had pushed the door open.

"Looks like Snape used the harp over there to get past it," Ron commented.

Hermione remained in the hallway, but she could see the musical instrument situated near the dog's feet. She wondered what it was for, and how exactly Snape had used it to get past the frightening beast.

"Go on and play, Harry," Neville urged.

Harry evidently complied with the command because a moment later, the piercing sound of a flute filled the room. It sounded horrible to her ears, but the dog seemed to be calmed by it. It miraculously drifted off to sleep as Harry maintained the pitch.

Ron suddenly appeared into view after warning Harry to keep playing. Hermione wondered if they had been under some sort of garment. Harry had, after all, mentioned a cloak. Although she had never heard of a cloak that could make its user – or in this case, users – invisible, she wouldn't have been surprised to learn one existed. If she had learned anything over the past year, it was that most anything was possible in the Wizarding World.

The redhead cautiously ventured closer to the trapdoor, tiptoeing carefully over the three-headed dog's legs. He managed to pull open the trapdoor with a grunt.

"Looks dark," Ron reported back to where the other two boys remained concealed. "Don't see a ladder, so I think we'll have to jump it."

Neville and Harry appeared into view. Neville had assisted Harry, who was still playing the flute, by removing the cloak. Hermione could see the fabric shimmering across Neville's invisible hand.

Although Harry never removed his lips from the flute, he indicated that he wanted to be the first one to jump into the supposed unknown. Ron was surprised, but he suggested that Harry turn the flute over to Neville to keep the three-headed canine asleep.

During the transition, when Harry had to stop playing in order to pass the flute, Fluffy had woken up with a ferocious growl. Neville had nearly dropped the instrument in his shock, but he recovered and started playing a low note. The other boys looked relieved that Neville had not failed them with the slipup.

After a few muttered instructions to Ron, Harry dropped into the hole and out of sight.

"It's okay!" Harry called after a few seconds. Hermione could see that Neville and Ron had visibly relaxed after realizing that Harry was alright. Harry reported that the landing was soft and it was safe to jump down.

Ron glanced nervously at Neville, but followed the bespectacled boy into the unknown. A moment later, there was a call for Neville to join them.

Hermione could see that Neville was hesitant.

"Come on Neville!" the voices urged from the pit.

Neville looked conflicted. He seemed to wonder if he would be able to make it through the trapdoor before the dog woke up. Hermione was about to stop him, but the boy had made up his mind. Neville kept playing as he approached the trapdoor, but stopped when he jumped down and out of sight.

Fluffy awoke immediately with a threatening snarl, effectively preventing Hermione from following. The beast sniffed the air in her direction, and Hermione froze in panic as the three heads swerved to face where she remained standing in the hallway. It took her a moment to realize that she was still invisible and the beast could not actually see her. However, that did not prevent her from taking several steps away from the door.

Hermione was no fool. She was not about to follow the three boys into the darkness. However, a part of her also did not want to see the three – particularly Neville – end up dead. After all, if the first obstacle was to get past a giant three-headed dog, what other challenges were they meant to face? She knew it certainly wouldn't be anything good.

"…_die a very painful death…"_

Hermione's mind raced through several options and their possible outcomes. Most of them ended badly, either for her or for the boys.

Suddenly, she realized what she could do to provide a mutually beneficial outcome.

Resolved in her decision, she turned around and fled from the corridor.

* * *

><p>AN: A few lines of dialogue were taken from the chapter "Through the Trapdoor" in the first book; they were written by J.K. Rowling and I have no claim over them.

There is only one more chapter left to conclude the events of book one. The next chapter will likely be delayed, however. I have to write a twenty-page paper and I have exams this coming week. I shall try and work something out, but I plead for patience. Good luck to all fellow exam-takers!


	13. Departure

Hermione used to follow rules with a passion. She thought they were good things – good for humankind, society, and civilization in general. Although she still believed rules were good things to have established and to follow, she had a difficult time reconciling her philosophy with rules that made little to no sense – rules that did not contribute to order or ensure safety. One such rule Hermione had become disgruntled with was the school's curfew. Ever since she had started her late-night excursions, Hermione had wondered why students had to be monitored twenty-four hours a day. As long as students were not abusing the extra time, like Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Neville Longbottom currently were, surely there would not be an issue with them staying out later.

It was not as if Hermione was doing anything bad by spending time – even if that time lasted until the late hours of the night (and in some cases, early hours of the morning) – with Tom Riddle, boy from the past. She was improving her magical capabilities and expanding her knowledge by spending time with Tom. Her high scores had never faltered, and if anything, her professors were even more impressed with her than they had been at the start of the year when they first learned of her genius-like capabilities when it came to schoolwork. Hermione was certain her friendship with Tom was mutually beneficial, as she had seen an equally vast improvement in Tom's skills over the course of the months they had known each other.

Therefore, Hermione felt she was justified in breaking the curfew. It was a rule she did not believe was entirely necessary. At least not for people who had the sense to not go breaking extra rules, like breeching a restricted and heavily guarded room (and if a giant three-headed dog did not scream heavily guarded, Hermione could scarcely fathom a guess as to what did) as the three Gryffindor boys had done.

However, although Hermione was fine breaking rules, she was not about to be caught while breaking one. She was fine disobeying certain rules, but seeking punishment was not on her list of things to accomplish. As such, waking up Professor McGonagall and alerting her of the potentially dire situation regarding her three housemates would take a bit of extra effort than it would if Hermione could merely knock on the door and explain the situation.

Fortunately, Hermione Granger was the brightest witch of her age. And even if she was not, her plan did not require too much effort. Anyone with a general knowledge of a few creative spells would be able to do the same without much difficulty.

Facing the wall that resided directly across from Professor McGonagall's office-slash-living quarters, Hermione traced a magical message onto the stone, using her wand to carve letters made of light. The letters gleamed back like flames. Stepping away from the wall, Hermione glanced over her work.

_Potter, Weasley, & Longbottom entered the restricted room. Send help! _

She had distorted her handwriting in such a manner that it was no longer recognizable as her own work, but fortunately still legible. Hermione hoped the precautions would be enough. Not willing to waste anymore time, the young witch cast another spell, the results of which were instantaneous as a deafening sound – like a banshee wail mixed in with fireworks – filled the hallway. Hermione had already safeguarded her ears to dim the noise, but surely anyone within hearing range – heavy sleeper or not – would be unable to ignore the sound.

Hermione backed away several steps and pressed herself against the stone wall as the office door swung open none-too-gently to reveal a flustered looking professor. The light from Hermione's message illuminated the elder witch's bedraggled features, revealing the woman had indeed been fast asleep before the interruption. A few seconds later, Professor McGonagall swished her wand with a nonverbal command. The noise ceased as abruptly as it had started.

"Godric save them if this is true," the elder witch whispered in a worried tone as she finished reading Hermione's message. The Gryffindor Head of House closed the door behind her as she rushed in the opposite direction of where Hermione was standing, presumably to seek more assistance. After all, had she immediately planned to rescue the three boys, she would have gone past where Hermione remained pressed against the wall.

Hermione debated following her momentarily, but decided against it. She had given the boys as much help as she could beyond following them to certain death, which would likely not have been as useful as seeking assistance from the Hogwarts staff. At least now they would have a chance at surviving.

Unable to do anything else, Hermione returned to Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

><p>When Hermione woke the next morning, the world seemed unchanged despite the events of the previous night. Then again, thinking realistically, did she really expect anything to be different? Was the sky supposed to turn green just because three boys had managed to meddle with things more dangerous than a three-headed dog? The normalcy grounded her, clearing her mind of cluttered and unnecessary thoughts.<p>

The realization that nothing appeared amiss was comforting. There was no one mourning the loss of three first years, no mention of death or expulsion. There was no gossip about last night's adventures. No teachers approached her to condemn her for her late night wanderings. Life continued in the same manner as it had the day before, and had always done so.

"How do you think you did on the exam?" Hermione heard Parvati Patil ask her friend and constant companion, Lavender Brown.

"I do not even want to think about it," Lavender replied with a distinct groan of disdain. She brushed back a few locks of hair before reaching over the table to grab the tea pot, proceeding to pour some for her and her friend.

Parvati chuckled, watching the steam rise from her cup. "I feel the same way. It really is terrible having a know-it-all for a sister. All she does is worry about how she did, what she thinks she messed up on. It's nerve-wracking!" Parvati was referring to her twin, Padma Patil. Padma and Parvati had been separated into different houses, but they were frequently found chatting together despite their distinct group of friends. Padma, a Ravenclaw, was someone who Hermione imagined herself tolerating a great deal more than the girl's twin.

"The worst part is that they always get the right answers. I think they just like to complain to make the rest of us feel bad," Parvati continued.

The two girls glanced at Hermione, who was sitting alone at the end of the table as she had always done. When they noticed Hermione was looking at them, Lavender mustered a smile that was anything but genuine. Parvati dropped her attention back to her tea.

When Lavender realized that Hermione had no intention of returning the gesture, she awkwardly dropped her gaze and returned to conversing with her friend. Their voices dropped to a much quieter tone, and Hermione was left to look around the Great Hall without her thoughts being interrupted by the loud chatter from her roommates.

Although it was currently the time breakfast was usually packed, it was also the first day of no classes and no exams. Many of the students were taking advantage of sleeping in later than they were usually allowed to, so the room seemed a bit more sparse than how it usually was. However, the conversation she had just overheard her roommates having was reassuring. The girls were already well-known as two of the biggest gossips at the school. If they had nothing more exciting to talk about than exams, Hermione could conclude there was nothing incredibly pressing to worry about.

* * *

><p>When Hermione had stopped by the library to pick up a book, she was unsurprised to see that it was almost completely devoid of life, save for her and the ever-present librarian. The librarian's calculating eyes caught Hermione's momentarily, but the woman diverted her attention back to the book she had been reading at the front desk after realizing the intruder posed little threat to her sanctuary.<p>

The hawkish woman could relate to books, but not to people. Hermione could sympathize with the librarian. Had she not met Tom, perhaps she would be like Irma Pince. Hermione let the thought pass as quickly as it had arrived. She had Tom, and she would not end up like the woman who only loved books because she knew nothing else.

The library was empty for obvious reasons. First, it was early in the morning. Students preferred to be in bed, or at breakfast. The only students that did come to the library in the morning were those that had to finish assignments due later that day because they had procrastinated. Now that classes and exams had ended, there was no reason for the vast majority of students to venture through the old wood doors, at least not until next semester.

Hermione made her way to the section where the fiction books were located. It was a section she had rarely visited during the school year due to the fact that she had spent her time studying, learning, researching, and experimenting. The type of books in the fiction section did not contribute to her understanding of such things. Now that school was to be put on hold, she would have to find other means to occupy and entertain herself. As such, Hermione decided to revert back to her favorite pastime of reading for pleasure rather than for the sake of learning something. Even then, tales had their own lessons to teach. Several tidbits of great knowledge could be gleaned from fictional pieces.

Although the heavy tomes and dry textbooks might seem like a chore for her fellow peers, Hermione had always achieved a sense of pleasure from reading to expand her knowledge and understanding of magic. Before, she had only ever read of such things like witched and wizards and magical beasts in fairy tales. Now she was living it, and the appeal of magic had yet to wear out as she voraciously read anything from the history of the wizarding world to Arithmancy formulas.

Then again, looking back, she doubted she would be able to read a muggle book that concerned magic and enjoy it the same way she always had.

Hermione would have plenty of time to read books by muggle authors, but she did not know if she would have such easy access to books written by witches and wizards when she returned home. She quickly scanned through the spines of the books, picking out a few that sounded interesting enough. By the time she finished selecting texts, she had five books. Each was under three hundred pages, so Hermione figured she would read them all by tomorrow.

With her selections tucked into her book bag, Hermione made her way to the seventh floor.

* * *

><p>"You finished your exam early," Hermione commented as she closed the door behind her. Tom had already been in the room, but it hadn't even been an hour since his exam had started.<p>

"It was easy," Tom said dismissively.

"Of course it was," Hermione replied. "And there were no complications regarding your least favorite professor?"

Tom shook his head to indicate that no, there were no complications. "The class would be so much better if only he didn't teach."

Hermione claimed her usual seat. She withdrew a book from her bag.

"At the very least, he can't fail you just because he doesn't like you," Hermione reassured him. After all, if that philosophy did apply, no Gryffindor would ever pass a Potions class again.

"That doesn't mean he can't be insufferable during the remainder of the year," Tom countered.

"At least you won't have to see him until next year. And who knows? Maybe he will fall down a flight of stairs and die by that time," Hermione joked.

Tom rolled his eyes, but a grin had crept onto his lips. Hermione's cynical humor might have been uncharacteristic in October, but continued interaction with Tom meant that certain traits were bound to be picked up. Hermione was not the same girl she had been when the school year started, but Tom was not the same boy either.

Regardless of the individual changes they had both undergone, there was one thing they shared in common: they were both far stronger than they would have been without each other.

"Who knows indeed," Tom commented wryly.

"Something exciting happened last night," Hermione shifted the topic, gauging Tom's reaction to her opener.

"Without me?" Tom asked with mock hurt, but his eyes beckoned for her to continue.

Hermione complied with the unspoken request. "As I was about to enter the Gryffindor common room, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Neville Longbottom exited – and they were invisible."

She watched as Tom's face morphed into one of surprise, most likely pondering – as she had yesterday – how they had accomplished such a feat. Tom was already familiar with the lack of skill the three boys possessed regarding magical ability from prior stories Hermione had told him. He had amused her by informing her that their ancestors were – if anything – much worse than their descendants when it came down to capability. "Surely they did not also learn the disillusionment charm?"

"That's what I thought at first," Hermione confessed. "They were actually using an invisibility cloak."

Tom looked surprise at that bit of information. He had never heard of such a thing.

Hermione nodded her head. "I think it belongs to Harry, but I do not know where they would have come across one. They're not exactly everyday goods, from what I've read about magical objects. Making one requires strong, complex magic and expensive, hard-to-come-by ingredients."

"Where were they going?" Tom asked after processing the information she had shared.

"Their destination was a restricted room on the third floor. Dumbledore had claimed it as off-limits during the opening feast."

"Why was it restricted?"

"Probably something to do with the three-headed dog that was guarding a trapdoor," Hermione replied dryly. "But honestly, I have no idea what was beyond the trapdoor. I wasn't about to be eaten by a dog just to find out."

Tom rubbed a hand through his dark hair in contemplation. "How exactly did they get past the dog?"

"With music, I believe," Hermione said. "While I don't exactly understand it myself, when they stopped playing the flute they had brought, the dog woke up."

Tom frowned. "I wonder how they ever figured out that they needed to play music to soothe the beast."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I am sure someone with knowledge of the beast informed them. As to whom that person is, I have an assumption that it was Rubeus Hagrid. After all, he did have the Norwegian Ridgeback."

Tom frowned. "Well, what happened after they evaded the dog?"

"I have no idea. After watching them disappear down the trapdoor, I left to go alert a professor about their doings. I managed to get Professor McGonagall, but it required some rather inventive means since I couldn't exactly knock on her door and tell her what the situation was. Regardless, I was able to get the message across and I am sure she took care of the situation."

Professor McGonagall was a name that came up often in their conversations. Hermione was fond of the woman who served as her Head of House and Transfiguration professor. The woman seemed much more suited to the task than her predecessor if Hermione's words of admiration were anything to go by. After knowing her for several months now, Tom was keen on believing that his companion's words – regardless of what they concerned – were indeed something to go by.

"You probably would have done the world a favor had you not sent help," Tom said with a smirk.

Hermione shrugged absently. "It's not like I was about to follow them down there myself. At least their deaths would not have been on my hands had I not taken any action and they did end up dead."

"Their deaths would not have been on your hands regardless," Tom countered. "If they were foolish enough to go through with their idiotic plan, then they should be ready to accept the consequences – whatever they may be – of their actions.

"Besides, would they have gone to aid you in your time of need? Likely not! They would probably think you were better off dead simply because they cannot stand to be subjected to someone far superior to themselves."

Hermione gazed at him, evaluating his features. "Although I understand your take on the matter, I believe this is where Slytherins and Gryffindors differ. Whereas Slytherins do things out of convenience and merit, Gryffindors simply do not think of such things."

"Perhaps because they do not think," Tom caustically replied.

"You know as well as I do that such a statement is an untruth," Hermione frowned, taking offense at the unfair blow. "I admit, perhaps such logic will get Gryffindors into trouble, but it is merely part of what causes the Sorting Hat to assign us to our respective houses."

"Do you really think you are suited to be in the Gryffindor house?"

Hermione fell silent, for she had thought that exact same question many times before. Would she have not been a better Ravenclaw? Her love of knowledge and books would say yes. But she did not long for books the way Irma Pince coveted them. She did not want knowledge to be the sole companion in her life. However, where else did she truly belong?

She voiced the question aloud.

"I thought it would be self-explanatory," Tom said. "You're obviously very Slytherin."

That would have been an insult to any other Gryffindor – or really any member of any house. However, anyone else would not have understood that such words coming from a Slytherin were the highest type of praise.

"Why would you say that? I certainly do not possess the blood purity that they rave about."

"And I do?" Tom asked, clearly not accepting her excuse as a valid one.

"You might," Hermione said. "I doubt you inherited your ability to speak to snakes from two muggle parents. That guarantees you're either half or pure."

Tom waved his hand absently, dismissing her reasoning. "And even if that is so, do I seem to be a pure-blooded zealot?"

"No," Hermione admitted. "But that doesn't mean I possess any other Slytherin attributes."

The twelve-year old boy scoffed. "You most certainly do. But if you can't see them, I'm not going to point them out. You're a smart girl, and you'll find out all by yourself just exactly what I mean."

Hermione liked figuring things out for herself, but she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to discover what Tom meant.

"And I'd like to point one thing out. Would the stereotypically brave Gryffindor follow the three imbeciles down through the trapdoor, or would they – as you had – evaded certain death by following the smart course of action through seeking help from someone who could actually handle the situation?"

Hermione remained silent.

"It's a good thing you aren't the stereotypical Gryffindor. I doubt we'd be friends if you were," Tom said.

Hermione countered his statement, "And if you were the stereotypical Slytherin, I probably would have hexed you by now."

"If you were the stereotypical Gryffindor, you wouldn't have been able to. Or you would have hexed yourself in attempting to do so."

They continued on in such a manner for a few more turns until their comments became so ridiculous that both first years found themselves laughing gaily.

"I am glad we are friends," Hermione said after she had sobered from the humorous outcome, "even if you are a Slytherin."

"I am glad as well," Tom replied with a very Slytherin-like grin.

* * *

><p>The two split ways for lunch. Tom said he would have to pick up a textbook from the library before returning, so he warned that he might take awhile to return, especially with the horde of other students cramming in the library and checking out books at last minute to study from.<p>

When Hermione reached the Great Hall, she was glad to see that she had arrived at a good time. It appeared that lunch had just started because the students were busily piling their plates with food. However, it was still early enough that not all of the students had arrived quite yet, whether they were playing outside in the warm weather or getting a head-start on packing their belongings for the inevitable return home.

Hermione saw that Neville Longbottom had taken up his usual spot a few seats down from where her seat was. Ron Weasley and Harry Potter had claimed their positions next to and across from the boy respectively.

The Gryffindor girl was glad to see that they were all still alive and relatively unharmed. Ron had a band-aid on his cheek and some scrapes marring his temple, but his long red hair worked wonders at concealing the marks. The other two boys appeared unscathed.

"Now really, Ronnykins. Please tell us what was in the restricted room you bunch lost three hundred house points for? I mean, we thought we would have had you outdone with our streaking stark naked around the Hogwarts lake, but that only got us knocked down forty a piece and bathroom cleaning duty."

Hermione glanced at the twin who had spoken and then at the Gryffindor hourglass. She had not looked at it this morning, or really any morning since the time the boys had lost one hundred points and Gryffindor had given up on the house cup. The glass, true to word, was missing five-hundred-and-seventy-eight points now.

"Can't tell," Ron muttered before jamming a turkey sandwich into his mouth.

"Or what? You'll lose more points? So what!"

"We can't tell because we don't know," Neville explained since Ron was unable to do so with a full mouth.

"You didn't even ask?" Lee Jordan asked from his spot next to the twins.

Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom shook their heads to indicate that they had not. "It's not like Dumbledore would have told us anyway."

Hermione watched Harry Potter during the exchange. He had been silent throughout the conversation, but his facial expression indicated that he was hiding something. That was easy for Hermione to determine. However, regarding what he was hiding, Hermione had no idea. She could only guess that Harry knew more than his friends did, and he wasn't too keen on sharing.

Hermione banished the curious thoughts stirring in her mind. She did not want to investigate the matter. It would be forgotten about soon enough, when she left Hogwarts and returned home for the summer months.

* * *

><p>Tom and Hermione split ways earlier than usual again that night since Tom had another early morning exam the following day.<p>

"Try not to have any more exciting adventures without me," Tom called over his shoulder before stepping through the door. If he hadn't already been concealed from sight by the disillusionment charm, he would have vanished anyway by crossing the threshold.

Hermione laughed to herself, somehow knowing that Tom could tell she was laughing even from 1939. It was still late enough that curfew was in effect, but early enough that she figured she would spend a bit more time in the room before returning to her bed in Gryffindor Tower.

When she did return to Gryffindor Tower, she was surprised to see that the common room was not empty. Harry Potter sat in front of the fireplace. Fortunately, he was lost in thought and the chair was turned away from the common room's entrance. Hermione shed her disillusionment charm and made her way over to the unoccupied chair at his side.

"You are up late," Hermione stated when Harry did not seem to acknowledge her existence even after she had claimed the seat. He jumped in surprise and turned his head to look at her.

"I couldn't sleep," Harry explained after a minute of silence. She supposed she had frightened him by sneaking up on him. "What about you?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, turning her gaze to the fire. "Lavender's snoring is bothersome, so I keep myself up until I'm too tired to care."

It wasn't exactly a lie, but she didn't feel like explaining her late night wanderings to the emerald-eyed boy.

She could still feel Harry's eyes on her, likely waiting for her to ask a question. He was smarter than Hermione gave him credit for, but his lack of credit stemmed from his poor decision to befriend the obnoxious redhead.

"What happened down there?" Hermione asked, knowing Harry could decipher the meaning of her words.

"How do you know about that?"

"People talk," she replied dismissively.

"People don't talk about 'down there'. They don't know what was in the room."

Hermione returned her gaze to the boy. He did not break eye contact. She waited for him to bring his accusations against her.

"Nobody was supposed to know we were down there," Harry explained. "But somehow they did."

"And?" Hermione asked.

"I have no idea. Why don't you fill in the blanks?" Harry replied, his emerald eyes reflecting the flames of the hearth.

"You don't really think it was me?" Hermione asked, keeping her tone and gaze leveled.

"I don't know what to think," Harry said. "I just have a feeling."

"Feelings are just that. There is no logic or proof."

Harry looked down at his hands folded in his lap.

"Will you tell me what happened down there?" Hermione asked again.

"Will you tell me what I want to know?" Harry countered.

"Perhaps," Hermione replied noncommittally.

"By down there, I'm guessing you mean through the trap door?"

Hermione was not about to give anything away, so she waited silently for him to continue.

"There was Devil's Snare. Judging by your face, I'm guessing you know what it is."

Hermione schooled her features back into a calm expression. She had been surprised that something so deadly would be growing in the school, but then again, their first obstacle had been a three-headed dog.

"How did you get past it?" The witch inquired curiously. Devil's Snare was easy enough to identify if one had a general understanding of Herbology. The constricting vines attempting to suffocate its victim kind of gave it away.

"Thankfully Neville's good at Herbology… even if he's not too good at lighting magical fires."

"Do you know what happens to victims of Devil's Snare?" Hermione asked, marveling at his luck when it came to survival.

"I have an idea," Harry replied while unconsciously rubbing his neck.

Hermione indicated that he should continue his recount of the previous night's events.

Harry told her about a room filled with winged keys followed by a live-action game of wizard's chess, in which Ron Weasley had controlled the game and sacrificed himself so Harry and Neville could proceed to the next room.

"He got a nasty blow to the head," Harry said, providing an explanation for Ron's battered appearance.

Hermione was sure that Ron had not lost any valuable brain cells in the process. After all, she mused, he wasn't exactly the sharpest quill…

"Neville and I managed to reach the last obstacle. It was Snape's challenge, a logic problem."

Hermione suppressed a laugh. Snape would choose something that ordinary contenders would be unable to complete. Any wizard or witch could use magic, but few were capable of understanding logic!

"We had no idea which one to choose," Harry continued. "There were seven bottles and three had poison in them. One would provide a way through and one would send the user back to the entrance."

"And the other two?" Hermione inquired.

"Some type of wine," Harry said, forgetting the name of said wine.

"Well, did it at least give a hint?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, but it wasn't exactly easy to understand."

"What ended up happening?"

"Dumbledore found us while we were trying to pick out one which would not kill us. Professor McGonagall had summoned him back to Hogwarts after receiving word about our whereabouts in the restricted room."

"Did you ever discover what it was you were looking?"

Harry closed his eyes for a few moments as if contemplating whether he should tell her.

"I already know that you know more than Ron and Neville and that you are keeping them in the dark," Hermione said. She didn't inform him that she had no knowledge regarding what it was he did know.

"You kept Norbert a secret, so I believe you can keep this a secret," Harry finally reasoned aloud. Hermione did not correct him regarding his error. She had told Tom Riddle. "But you can't tell Ron and you can't tell Neville."

"Why can't they know?" Hermione inquired.

"Because I don't know if they'd believe me. Or if they'd think I was crazy. I don't want to scare them."

"And me?" Hermione asked with an amused tone.

"I guess it doesn't really apply with you," Harry said. "I don't really care if you know or not, since I don't think you really care. You're just curious, but you don't care beyond your curiosity. Isn't that right?"

Hermione thought his evaluation was rather spot on, but she felt a bit slighted by the generalization.

"That's true. Your secret is safe," Hermione said, mentally adding _at least from confidants in this decade. _

"Besides," Harry continued. "It's kind of nice to have someone to confess to – someone who doesn't care about the information, anyway."

Hermione wondered if she should suggest a diary, or therapy. Instead, she remained silent and waited for Harry to bare his secrets.

"It wasn't Snape. It was Quirrell," Harry said. "Quirrell was trying to steal the Sorcerer's Stone. However, he couldn't do it."

Hermione was familiar with the name of the Stone from the book she had read on magical objects. The Sorcerer's Stone, which had been crafted by the alchemist Nicholas Flamel, could produce the Elixir of Life. Drinking the Elixir of Life could grand immortality.

"Why couldn't he steal the Stone?"

"Because Dumbledore is clever," Harry explained. "He hid it in a mirror that shows a person their desire. Only a person who wanted to find it, but not use it could retrieve it. Obviously Quirrell wouldn't be able to get it."

Hermione did think that was very clever. Even if the person seeking it had wanted to use it and had known how to find it, they would still not be capable of retrieving it.

"Did Quirrell merely want immortality, or is there more to the story?" Hermione inquired, knowing full well that the Stone would be desired by anyone and everyone. Being able to live forever was something man had sought since the beginning of civilization.

"There's more to the story," Harry confessed. He paused again, as if contemplating whether he should proceed telling the tale. Finally deciding to go through with it, his next words surprised Hermione. "Voldemort was trying to resurrect himself with the stone. In the meantime, he was leeching Quirrell's life-force to exist."

"How was he doing that?" Hermione inquired, finding the fact that Voldemort was able to leech a person's life force more surprising than his supposed existence despite his status as being deceased.

"Ever wonder why Quirrell wore a turban?" Harry asked dryly.

Hermione took the information in with ease. "So Voldemort is trying to return?"

"Supposedly. That's what Dumbledore told me. I never saw him myself – well, kind of. When I had detention with Hagrid, Neville, and Malfoy, I think I saw him feasting on unicorn blood."

Hermione gasped.

"I'm guessing I don't need to explain why or the reason behind how bad it is."

The witch shook her head. She had read about unicorn blood and how it was capable of cursing the user.

"That's why I don't want to tell Ron and Neville. It would have been one thing if I had seen Voldemort with my own eyes, but I hadn't. I trust Dumbledore, but I don't want to say anything to raise alarm when I can't back it up with my own testimony."

"I can see why you do not want to tell Ron and Neville," Hermione said. "How many people are going to believe you when you say that Voldemort is not dead? Not many."

"Do you?" Harry found himself unable to resist asking.

Hermione stared into the dwindling flames of the hearth. "You came from a muggle upbringing too, Harry. Haven't you learned by now that anything is possible with magic?"

Harry thought what Hermione had said made sense, but he didn't feel one-hundred percent on board with the idea. He didn't want Voldemort's possible return to be true. The man had ripped Harry's life to shreds before Harry could even become conscious of it. His parents were dead and he was stuck living with relatives who wished he had died as well. On the list of people Harry wanted dead – or in this case, to remain dead – Voldemort was at the top.

The two of them sat in front of the dying flames in silence for the next few minutes, contemplating their conversation.

Hermione finally broke the silence with a question she wanted confirmation on. "Was it Rubeus Hagrid who aided you in getting past the three-headed dog?"

Harry's brows knitted together in puzzlement. "How did you know?"

Hermione stared at him blankly, waiting for him to figure it out.

"So it was you," Harry said in amazement. "How did you find us?"

"I followed you – and don't ask me how," Hermione added as soon as Harry's mouth opened to speak, "but I can tell you it's nothing as interesting as that invisibility cloak of yours."

Harry looked a bit dumbstruck. "How did you know about the cloak?"

"I don't think we need to tell each other everything," Hermione stated.

The boy-who-lived looked a bit put off by her comment, but recovered quickly enough. "You are too mysterious."

"I'm not the one who goes on late night adventures into the unknown." _Just to a room with a boy from the past_.

Harry graced her with a small smile.

"I think we could have been friends, you know," Harry said whimsically. "I think we can be friends."

"We could, but I don't think we will," Hermione replied easily.

"Why's that?" Harry asked, trying not to look upset by the immediate rejection.

"You're too loyal to your friends for one," Hermione said. When he looked confused, she brought up his redheaded companion's name.

"He'd get used to you eventually," Harry argued in defense of his friend. "He's not a bad guy."

"But he'd be forced to get along with me and he wouldn't want to. I don't want to be friends with someone like that," Hermione said. "Also, you're a troublemaker."

"Says the girl who followed us to a restricted room," Harry commented.

"I never entered the room, and I did send help to save your lives," Hermione countered. Harry had the decency to look abashed.

"Thanks for that, by the way," Harry said.

Hermione nodded her head, feeling rather uncomfortable with the praise. "Let's keep that information between the two of us. The last thing I want is another hundred house points deducted or for Ron to figure out that he's in my debt. I've got an image to uphold."

Harry gave her a grin, very unlike Tom's sly one. Harry's was warm and playful, but Hermione found that she much preferred Tom's.

As Hermione stood to leave, she gave him one more reason as to why they would never be friends.

"You're too much of a Gryffindor to be my friend."

Leaving the bespectacled boy confused, Hermione departed the common room.

* * *

><p>Ravenclaw beat Slytherin in the last Quidditch match of the season, taking first overall. However, Slytherin won the House cup for the umpteenth time in a row. The school dined under decorations of green and silver after the announcement – until the Weasley twins altered the banners into a rainbow mixture, which remained unchanged for the remainder of the feast.<p>

Gryffindor celebrated a record breaking point loss of seven-hundred-and-twenty-seven points. Even Dumbledore partook in the merriment of the achievement by rewarding Professor McGonagall a trophy for the efforts of her house, which she took with a flustered (or was it exasperated?) expression.

The exam results came out. Hermione had perfect scores in all of her classes and did the best out of all of the first years. Her professors praised her intellect and the Ravenclaws admired her in whispers and humbled glances. She was granted with one of Professor McGonagall's rare smiles and even Professor Snape did not glare at her as intensely as he did at the other non-Slytherins.

All was well and good.

Although she was leaving that day, Tom had three more days until he would return to the orphanage.

"I'm sure I'll find something to do," Tom explained in an attempt to mask how much he would actually miss his only friend.

Hermione hugged him goodbye, promising to write him as soon as she arrived at home. She wouldn't chance writing to him on the train unless she snagged an empty compartment. The last thing she wanted to do was explain that she was communicating through a book.

"Stay safe, Tom," Hermione said. In a bold move, she kissed his cheek. In a cowardly move, she turned and fled before he could recover from his shock.

* * *

><p>Hermione had managed to find an empty compartment, but as soon as she had mustered up the courage to pull out the leather-bound journal, her plan to write to Tom was ruined.<p>

"Sorry, I didn't see anyone sitting in here," a familiar voice interrupted from the doorway.

Hermione gazed up to stare at the newcomer.

"I don't mind if you want to sit here," Hermione stated politely, "as long as you don't try to hex me."

"I wouldn't dare," Draco Malfoy replied honestly. Uneasily, he claimed the seat across from her.

At least Draco Malfoy's arrival could further delay her writing to Tom. She felt her cheeks redden at the recollection that she had indeed kissed his cheek.

"I'm surprised you actually took the offer to sit, not that I particularly mind. I was under the impression you didn't want to be around someone of my heritage," Hermione stated coolly after composing herself.

Draco gazed at the door, as though contemplating whether he shouldn't have sat in the first place and was wondering if he could escape.

"But really, I assure you that I don't care that you sit here," Hermione reassured the blond-haired boy.

Her words did manage to assure him, and Draco settled into his seat.

Noticing that he was not about to say anything despite the fact that his gaze was still fixed on her, Hermione withdrew the _Daily Prophet_ that she had been saving since breakfast. She had no books to read – at least none that she hadn't read before.

She was just skipping over Rita Skeeter's gossip column when Draco chose to speak.

"I don't care if you're a mudb– muggle-born," Draco corrected himself quickly.

Hermione didn't say anything, but waited for him to continue.

"I wanted to apologize for that night," Draco explained finally.

Hermione nodded her head. "We're all young and make mistakes. As long as there's no repeat occurrence, I don't see why we can't put that incident behind us."

Draco looked relieved. "That's good. I didn't think I'd be able to look at a crow again without flinching again."

Hermione gave him an amused glance, but said nothing.

"How did you learn all of that magic? It's not material a first year should be capable of performing, let alone know."

"Do you think I belong in Gryffindor?" Hermione found herself asking instead of replying.

Draco looked a bit taken aback by her question. "No. You're not like any other Gryffindor I know – and I'm still debating if that's a good thing or not."

Hermione frowned. "What house do you think I belong in?"

"I guess Ravenclaw? But if you disregard your lack of heritage, I'd say Slytherin most definitely."

Her frown deepened. "Why do you say Slytherin?"

Her compartment-mate laughed a bit nervously after noticing her darkening expression. "A few reasons, I suppose. For one, you have the grin down-pat."

As if to serve as an example, Draco grinned at her, the familiar Slytherin smile she could find on any of the house's members, regardless of the decade they lived in.

"Even if you don't use it a lot, I've seen it before and it's unmistakable."

Hermione attributed that to another thing she had picked up from her time with Tom.

"Then there's the fact that you're really a loner, but not lonely. That's how Slytherins work. We may have the rare close friend, but if we don't – and even if we do – we use the people around us for various purposes. You might use someone for information or to look like you're not sticking out from the crowd.

"Then there's the fact that you're cunning. You have everyone fooled with your _Miss perfect, know-it-all,_ _goody-two-shoes _cover, but I'm well aware that you're downright terrifying. And even if I were to tell anyone, they would never believe me. Even I was fooled until – well, you know when.

"So you see, you're very Slytherin-like, and I don't see how you ended up in Gryffindor. It might have been because the hat wouldn't put you in Slytherin since you lack the necessary heritage. However, that doesn't mean you should have ended up in Gryffindor. I think you'd be better suited for Ravenclaw."

"I've heard someone say that at least Gryffindors do not pretend to be smarter than they actually are, whereas Ravenclaws do."

"Sounds like something a Slytherin would say," Draco mused. He looked at her for a long moment, as though he was finally seeing her for the first time. "I think there's more to you than people see, and I don't know how to find out just exactly what that is."

Hermione contemplated his words. "I think you feel a need to justify my differences, but there is no need. Perhaps you are merely traumatized by our encounter in February and are convinced that I must be an anomaly."

"I doubt that is true," Draco insisted. "But that's a very Slytherin-like way of trying to throw me off your trail."

Hermione felt herself growing oddly annoyed by his persistence. "I am sure there is a reason I was sorted into Gryffindor rather than Slytherin or Ravenclaw. If the hat was deficient, it would not have lasted the many centuries it has." Even if she did not completely believe in her words, the bluff came easily.

Draco seemed to back off for he had fallen silent, which he remained for the remaining hour-and-a-half until the train reached the London station. Although Hermione did not realize it, he had detected the underlying words of warning that existed in her response.

The Slytherin stood up without another word and exited the compartment, but not before glancing over his shoulder for a moment.

Hermione's leveled gaze trailed after him, causing chills to run up his spine. He turned back away from her and hurried to exit the train.

Draco hadn't mentioned the main reason he believed that Hermione Granger did not belong in Gryffindor, but rather in Slytherin.

She had the makings of a dark witch.

* * *

><p>AN: After an amazing holiday (great Christmas, good grades, and a lovely visit to Canada), I have returned with a likely horrendously written chapter littered with grammar and spelling mistakes. Please, point them out if you see them and I shall revise them when I can. I really appreciate it.

On another note, I now need to reread book two, which shouldn't be too hard since it's one of my favorite in the series (I think it's because Tom Riddle is in it!)

I love that people are recognizing the butterfly effect! I have a lot of fun altering the universe to meet Hermione's lack of participation in the Golden Trio. I look forward to seeing you guys in book two.

Note - I don't think I'll spend time writing in the events of summer, as it would only serve as a filler chapter, so the next update will likely launch into the second semester. Until then!


	14. Author's Note

Exciting news!

Consume has officially adopted _Secretly, Yours_. The story can be found as _Strangeness and Charm_. I hope you all will support Consume just as much as you have supported me.

Thanks for everything,

Brutality


End file.
